Here you will find the Poem [Month of] December of poet Hilaire Belloc
Hoar Time about the house betakes him slow, Seeking an entry for his weariness. And in that dreadful company distress And the sad night with silent footsteps go. On my poor fire the brands are scarce aglow, And in the woods without what memories press Where, waning in the trees from less to less, Mysterious bangs the hom6d moon and low. For now December, full of aged care, Comes in upon the yea and weakly grieves; Mumbling his lost desires and his despair; . And with mad trembling hand still interweaves, The dank sear flower-stalks tangled in his hair, While round about him whirl the rotten leaves.
