Winter, now, from the upper pole
Turns back his face to close our warm escape,
While whistling low to minions cold
To curtain lands beneath his icy cape.

Green Summer's fled now, with her mentor,
Autumn, in a crisping coat of brown...
Fled southward to the vernal center;
While pale sister Spring cannot be found.

Unsettling old white-bearded man
Blowing icicles and snow,
Driving Seasons feminine
Before his storming blows.

Yet  for all his windy work, how well we know
Now gloaming sisters shall return,
For Spring shall ever end the snow;
Warm Summer's glow and Autumn's burn
Return, return, return, return.