Carpeing

I wonder if I ought to seize the day;
It's cold outside, and that means that my hand
Could get all frozen - and I'd like to stay
Quite toasty, thanks. It's not that I don't stand
In favor of quick action and swift thought;
It's more than reaching out for seizure seems
More trouble than it's worth. I know it ought
To be my goal, but you should know my dreams
Do not include touching the day's bleak chill
And getting it all over me. Who needs
To seize a dreary day like this? What will
Be helped? It's that dull thought that breeds
Distemper in me. Why not sit and keep
Quiet and warm, and fall at last to sleep?