I fear the Winter’s endless;
The laurel froze, and fires
Turn to ice; laden with frost,
My eyes are weary, close.
I dream of you, cast in ice,
With halo of flowers about
Your brow; why must you
Leave? the Summer cries.
Oh, and I, scarcely my own,
Shatter the icicles about my
Head; in the crystalline rain,
I cry; my tears pearl the sky.
But what of joy, of love now
I’ve got to give; the heart’s
Barren, the mouth dry, kiss-less,
And the world too sad a place
For my song. Is the cherub at
God’s side; do angel’s, too,
Have their beloved before their
Eyes, as they, trumpeters, call
The end, the storm of frost-fire?
Oh, wash o’er me, blazing snow,
And snuff out the fires of heart.
I, winter-bound, stilled in death,
Am forever at your side, my love.