Here's a depressing poem from Hilaire Belloc:
It freezes- all across a soundless sky
The birds go home. The governing dark's begun:
The steadfast dark that waits not for a sun;
The ultimate dark wherein the race shall die.
Death, with his evil finger to his lip,
Leers in at human windows, turning spy
To learn the country where his rule shall lie
When he assumes perpetual generalship.
The undefeated enemy, the chill
That shall benumb the voiceful earth at last,
Is master of our moment, and has bound
The viewless wind it-self. There is no sound.
It freezes. Every friendly stream is fast.
It freezes; and the graven twigs are still.
Hilaire Belloc
But here are some encouraging words from Vita Sackville-West:
"The shortest day has passed, and whatever nastiness of
weather we may look forward to in January and February, at least we notice that
the days are getting longer. Minute by
minute they lengthen out. It takes some
weeks before we become aware of the change.
It is imperceptible even as the growth of a child, as you watch it day
by day, until the moment comes when with a start of delighted surprise we
realize that we can stay out of doors in a twilight lasting for another quarter
of a precious hour."
- Vita Sackville-West
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