Shall I call thee a wintry blast?
Thou art so icy and so unfeeling.
Bitter love has killed the scarlet blooms of June
and winter's lease hath far too long a date.
Sometime too cold the hearts of snowflakes are,
and often are their patterns swept aside.
And every love from truth sometime declines,
by chance or heartbreak's course diminished.
But thy eternal winter shall not die
nor keep possession of that ice thou hast.
Nor shall Life brag thou strollest in her sky,
when love goes on and fades so very fast.
So long as I can breathe, my eyes can see,
so long lives this - and this sends life to me.
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