Winter in the Unknown Eros by Coventry Patmore and Tasha Tudor

I, singularly moved

To love the lovely that are not beloved,

Of all the seasons, most

Love Winter, and to trace

The sense of the Trophonian pallor in her face.

It is not death, but plentitude of peace;

And the dim cloud that does the world enfold

Hath less the characters of dark and cold

Than warmth and light asleep,

And corespondent breathing seems to keep 

With the infant harvest, breathing soft below

Its eider coverlet of snow.

                                                                        --Coventry Patmore

                                                                               Winter in the Unkown Eros

Oh! Plentitude of peace.... I love that line.