The Prince of Winter sat on his mountain throne again and surveyed his kingdom and was glad. His great, cold eyes stared, while he growled in his beard:
Proud of speech and hard of hand,
A cruel lord to follow,
Winter locks up sea and land,
Blocks up every hollow.
Summer coaxes, sweet and bland,
Flowers in soft vigour;
At Winter’s harsh and grim command,
They die of ruthless rigour.
Short and cold is Winter’s day,