December
by
And after him came next the chill December:
Yet he, through merry feasting which he made,
And great bonfires, did not the cold remember;
His Saviour’s birth his mind so much did glad:
Upon a shaggy-bearded goat he rode,
The same wherewith Dan Jove in tender years,
They say, was nourisht by th’ Idaean Mayd;
And in his hand a broad deep bowle he beares,
Of which he freely drinks an health to all his peeres.