On wintering nights of bitter frost
when all the warmth of life is lost;
as spectral mist swirls in the air...
I think of you with the fragrant hair.


When wind is moaning in the pines
and icy fingers touch the spine,
as strangled autumn slowly dies...
I think of you with the laughing eyes.


When darkened clouds, foreboding doom,
fly swift, before a leprous moon;
as hoarfrost from the blackthorn drips...
I think of you with the soft, sweet lips.


When hail, its palsied fingers train
and scrabble on the windowpane;
as gables whimper under tile...
I think of you with the gentle smile.


When, on such bleak and bitter nights,
primeval fear lurks out of sight,
and frightened thoughts, dark tendrils trace...
I think of you with the radiant face.


No earth-bound force can misalign
the shuttered refuge of my mind.
Encompassed in that secret place...
My soft, sweet thoughts of you.