Yet so sweet does the moment fly
When we have a want of company
In our needy desire of warmth
It comes readily upon aged bones
Waiting in entombed expectation
In this sepulchre elect we name house
Rush not the farewell to winter
It is only the affectionate pilgrim
That would have us love him
If he were not so icy to the touch
So he stays the itinerant by the door
The beggar we must not admit
An unwashed, raggedy bandit of summer
And we shall forgo all his overtures
Refuse his invitations of affection
We shall sit by the fire till he leaves
Become a watchman upon the shadows
Gazing only back to the far off days
Where there was no cold upon us
In a refreshment of summers excesses
Till wake one morning and see him gone
And taken the grey and lonely winter clouds
That brooded long above our sandstone hives
And the world ever renews it vow to life
Now winter has finished its lonely vigil
And left an arching spring rainbow as a gift
