Ol' Boreas (Winter 1)

Snow slides softly from the shingles.
The wispy winter wind whistles.
Ol' Boreas, beard of bushy moss,
O'er pine and oak by cloudy sky,
His billowing long cloak does cross,
Car'rying the barred owl's cry,
Heard hasting through the house's hall,
To greet winter, like night, to fall.
Where nature's will does never rest,
Out where stars shine through snowed cypress,
Lonely cabin of the forest,
From frigid frost
  a warm recess.