The dandelion's pallid tube/ Astonishes the grass,/ And winter instantly becomes/ An infinite alas.

There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons-- That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes--

There came a wind like a bugle; / It quivered through the grass.

There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes

Alas! in winter, dead and dark,Where can poor Robin go?

There is winter in L.A., there is rain in L.A. But there is no rain on 'Entourage.'