Ice Queen

This was what came to me one quiet winter morn, as the cold gust of wind spoke of a dancing mother who held the very essence of winter in her heart.

A dance amidst the winter’s squall

she wakes the master and the thrall

in incessant, sweet and sombre ways

with morning mists and icy sprawls

And in those cold, wintering days

what tales from hearths of men relay?

For all that comes of lucid tongues

in her frozen bosom forever stays

And men crouched, bonfires, nigh

with fingers stiff and each breath a sigh

shall yet each shiver delightful feel

for even her torments are gladness bedight.