The winter blasts beyond my power to warm;
The sun shines high, but gaily wastes his beams.
The breath is visible, and holds its form
For desperate moments, while the city schemes
How best to chill the blood and freeze the soul.
It is a hard place, and permits no ease,
Swallowing men up, downing them whole
Without a chew, for if they simply freeze,
They slide down easy. It devours us,
Yet we believe that we must struggle on,
Standing in lines for tickets, or the bus,
Wishing in vain that wind and cold were gone.
The summer is too brief of a reward
For winter's pain to be, for long, ignored.
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