gcurry

Winter’s delight is now lost to my heart,

And my feet frozen somehow where I stand.

Thy gayness and glee hast been driven apart,

As my heart has been ripped from your hand.

On the coldest night, you had opened your doors

And thus welcomed me so warmly inside.

You saved this wretch from what I most abhor:

The loathsome bleakness of heartache’s demise.

Your love had kindled a fire inside me,

Burning so hot to unthaw my heart so cold.

But scorching my heart to the highest degree

Turning to black ashes, my heart of gold.

You let me in kindly, though you were the first,

The mem’ries of warmth make the cold much worse.