O Month When They Who

O Winter! Frozen Pulse And Heart Of Fire, What Loss Is Theirs Who From Thy Kingdom Turn Dismayed, And Think Thy Snow A Sculptured Urn Of Death! Far Sooner In Midsummer Tire The Streams Than Under Ice. June Could Not Hire Her Roses To Forego The Strength They Learn In Sleeping On Thy Breast.

On The King's Gate The Moss Grew Gray;the King Came Not. They Called Him Deadand Made His Eldest Son One Dayslave In His Father's Stead.

Who Waits Until The Wind Shall Silent Keep Will Never Find The Ready Hour To Sow.

When Love Is At Its Best, One Loves So Much That He Cannot Forget.

O Proudly Name Their Names Who Bravely Sail| To Seek Brave Lost In Arctic Snows And Seas!