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!