Does winter ever moan, When it looks for warmth In the crannies of the icicles It holds so dear As the lifeless rays bring Joy to the living, does it Look for a way to return to The crimson blanket of nothingness What happens to the frozen leaves When it thwarts its host of its power Is it the winter that steals its mettle Or does the spring bring it to them Does it loathe the meadow and moon When zephyr makes the lea dance Or does it yearn for the warmth still As the darkling shadow is nigh