This year the Weasel will dance in the garden at midnight, to celebrate the Winter Solstice.
Donne in sombre mood:
TIS the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks ;
The sun is spent, and now his flasks
Send forth light squibs, no constant rays ;
The world's whole sap is sunk
But there is cheer, from Mr Herrick:
"COME, bring with a noise,
My merry, merry boys,
The Christmas log to the firing ;
While my good dame, she
Bids ye all be free ;
And drink to your heart's desiring"
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