Unrequited

Merry, merry England and all her kin are wont to make light of winter

So gnaw on wonder till it eschews guilt; but do not ask for forgiveness
Not till a cockscomb swells red and stands up proudly, throbbing on the head
Not till maidens giggle and blush at very mention of dangling wattles
That would decorate any throat most assuredly; even where a jewel fails
May even temper loose tongued winds from resonating chambers of envy
That crow away unremarked though the dawn still comes heralded by night
And the sweet desperation of unrequited dreams never made a day look so fair