Kings of Winter.

Hail, to the kings of Winter, sere and stern.
O Hail, to the strong wind's icy burn,
The black waters, clogged and slowly flowing-
The lowering sky, grey and tempest-tossed
    and the white snap of night-times spreading frost.

The longest night approaches, and the Kings draw near;
the tall trees bow their heads beneath their gaze
    and the pale sun's gleaming darts to the quick of the day.

Hail, to the darkness and the cold-
To the forced retreat to burrow and to nest.
Sleep, O world, in hedgerow and by hearth;
The shining spark grows larger as we rest.