Winter Is Coming
Rustle the leaves on the golden lawn.
Silently blowing from the dawn
Comes a breeze; its gentle song
Harkens the scarlet leaves along:
"Winter is coming, winter is coming,"
Quietly whispers the cold wind running:
"Go to sleep, go to sleep."
Barren the goddesses of the wood.
Pillars of beauty once they stood;
Now in the cold their branches crack.
Memories shiver their cold white backs:
"Winter is coming, winter is coming,"
Quietly whispers the cold wind running:
"Go to sleep, go to sleep."
The birds are flying to cheerier lands.
Without their whistles the woodlands bland
Grow sober and lonely, cold and grey,
And clouds fill the sky as if to say:
"Winter is coming, winter is coming,"
Quietly whispers the cold wind running:
"Go to sleep, go to sleep."
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