Impressions Of Winter Promising Wake
I saw the raindrops drying there
As if they'd never been
I saw the spirit dying there
Once felt, but never seen
A riddle is your haggard mind
No fruit the seeds will bear
Behind your walls of harsh rebuff
The trembling flower fear
No meadows, forests full of life,
No spring with water clear,
No shy game lurks in undergrowth
Until your wake, my dear
