A Woeful Winter Dirge
Comes winter with its icy blast
Across the land thy death shadow cast
Life purged by thy soulless wind
With thy sting of death thou doest offend
Thy snowy shroud upon January’s cold ground lain
Bitter tears of crystal ice now rain
Naked branches broken and battered in sorrow doth wail
amid thy northern gales.
Woeful Winter Dirge!
May the southern breeze push back thy artic surge
O Scourge of the seasons release your icy grasp
May the sun shine at last!