Here in this winter with snow too deep, Intolerably cold in its blanket of white; The ice is forming, as day withdraws for night I think of you and sage with lemon tea, Rolling fields of our New England; and the sea Where we harbored secrets in bright foam, Facing wind, the sunset turned for home Our youth flawless, sweet and free. I remember the high moon blue-white, shining on the drumming shore; showered in arrows of light, our shadows danced in their luminous flight together fused in flesh still ripe. Now here tracing your name in crystal upon my frosted pain, weeping tears the length of rivers in tribute to the same. I’ll leave these hopes unspoken and cast this dream away, no more to pine in sorrow or long for ancient days.