Thomas Campion       

Now winter nights enlarge

This number of their hours;

And clouds their storms discharge

Upon the airy towers.

Let now the chimneys blaze

And cups o'erflow with wine,

Let well-tuned words amaze

With harmony divine.

Now yellow waxen lights 

Shall wait on honey love

While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights 

Sleep's leaden spells remove.

This time doth well dispense

With lovers' long discourse;

Much speech hath some defence,

Though beauty no remorse.

All do not all things well:

Some measures comely tread,

Some knotted riddles tell,

Some poems smoothly read.

The summer hath his joys,

And winter his delights;

Though love and all his pleasures are but toys

They shorten tedious nights.