When winter first begins to bite,
And stones crack in the frosty night,
When pools are black and trees are bare,
'Tis evil in the wild to fare
I sit beside the fire and think of all
I have seen of meadow-flowers and butterflies
In the summers there have been;


Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In Autumns that there were,
With morning mist and silversun
And win upon her hair.


But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless mirrormere;
There lies his Queen in water deep,
Till I wake again from sleep
 
Copyright © codyaaron1990, All Rights Reserved