And said, “O world, how cold thou art!
Thou poor white world, I pity thee,
For joy and warmth from thee depart.
“Yon rising wave licks off the snow,
Winds on the crag each other chase,
In little powdery whirls they blow
The misty fragments down its face.
“The sea is cold, and dark its rim,
Winter sits cowering on the world,
And I, besides this watery brim,