Life's Winter Is Come

My, how winter is come so soon; Spring and the summer are cut short. And winter with its chilliness Assumes the space that they abort. The hunter pursues unassuming game The grounds are all windswept and dry. The trees stand pale with their bare limbs Wherein at one time they stood spry. The birds are all gone south by now And took with them their morning song. The flowers are all withered now; T'were beautiful when they were young. The even shadows have grown long, And days are short. Take heart. Be strong.