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Winter, some call thee fair
Yeah! flatter thy cold face
With vain compare
Of all thy glittering ways

And magic snows
With summer and the rose
Thy phantom flowers
And fretted traceries

Of crystal breath
Thy frozen and fantastic art of death
With April as she showers
The violet on the leas

And bares her bosom
In the blossoming trees
And dances on her way
To go laugh with May

Winter that hath no bird
To sing thee, and no bloom
To deck thy brow
To me thou art an empty haunted room

Where once the music
Of the summer stirred
And all the dancers
Fallen on silence now

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