As I crept through the dismal calm
of Winter's solemn gloom,
I Caught a glimpse of springtime's balm
by sullen cold, entombed.

Among the icy chaff I stayed
digressing from my path.
It seemed as if the snowdrifts lay
imbued with hidden wrath.

A robust vine had crawled up past
the snow's suppressing grip;
but yet the verdant arm collapsed
from flicks of Wind's old whip.

"I seem to linger in this hell
while time flies by," thought I
Ready to sep'rate from this dell
Arose I with a sigh.

I looked upon the sun's dim hue
leaking light through the doom.
Those radiant beams fell in a slough
inside this catacomb.

Too late I left this dim abyss;
already darkness fell,
cloaking the heath in stabbing chill
that froze the deepest well.

So in this wood I laugh alone
at fortune, warmth, and light.
The first two have, like dry leaves, flown,
The last fallen with night.