I walked through the wasteland of frosty field
To find only a silvery rose of cold
Its buds where many and some were still sealed
And thorns of its rime where still icy to hold
The tangling realms of winter's dark blue sky
Are now in those footsteps of a year leaving
They will soon walk the snow on to their goodbye
With our hearts in memories retrieving
This beautiful morning of copper-red daybreak
Shall move on in time and there be neglected
And another year born in to its new wake
That no one before has liven or inspected
Their rises and loss in vineyards or flurries
Along with old forgotten years and worries
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