Gales of cold breath call,
    Befallen the leaves,
She's late for the ball,
Creatures upon paws crawl,
   Weaving through the trees.

Icy embrace upon one's face,
    Frozen hands caress the skin,
Descends from Boreas' grace,
Upon this barren place,
    Coated in malice and sin.

Form of wind and snow,
    Husband known as Frost,
Disturbing rivers' flow,
Embodiment of woe,
    False maiden for the lost.

I knew her touch not a day before,
   Whence she came in November,
Wind roaring up the tor,
The last of four,
    Extinguishing fire's ember.