Heat in the winter is a blesséd thing
A holy intervention from above.
And yet, how quickly fortunes always swing!
It seems almost a curse in weather of
More welcome hue. To cuddle under sheets
Is wonderful when everything is dark
But every commonsensical man treats
A comforter like poison when the spark
Of spring has flown into the air about.
When ice is falling, then an inky cloak
Pulled close around is best, but none will doubt
It hell when winter's grapple has been broke.
So do not keep the clogs of early need
About you when what's later comes to feed.
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