the wordlinks poetry project

winter i

I was born in vigil of the sun: well meet is winter’s sun-ward groan. In winter shall I take my rest from all my earth-borne toil and blood. Without the light my fate in birth, I die without its happy flood. From then ‘till now I ne’er’ve wanted joy or sun-shine over much. I think that I shall die in winter: I fain would die without Sol’s touch.  *

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