Fog idles around the lamp-lit trees with
haunted eyes
And suggests perhaps the night has grown too cold.

The woods are dead and full of snow;
Sky could dissolve, and the people in the fog would
never know.
My soul, my eyes are full of snow:
love the world, but it comes and goes -
To once have loved madly seems...-
but whom?
the Dream.
the fog makes clear that the dream has died,
as it idles 'round the lamppost with haunted eyes.

In a house built of moonbeams
and strung up with stars,
the snowflakes sigh.