Because I forgot!
The Winter's Walk
Samuel Johnson
Behold my fair, where-e'er we rove,
What dreary prospects round us rise,
The naked hills, the leafless grove,
The hoary ground, the frowning skies.
Nor only through the wasted plain,
Stern winter, is thy force confest,
Still wider spreads thy horrid reign,
I feel thy pow'r usurp my breast.
(
Enliv'ning hope, and fond desire... )