Old Winter

When comes the old man winter in,
Comports himself like king and crown
There's naught to do but let him win
For bones have no defense deep down
    We might as well just let him win;
    There's no resisting king and crown.

Perhaps the host can bid him sit
Beside the logs in fireplace
Make him comfortable--to wit
Warm him through from foot to face.
    Perhaps he's happy just to sit
    If we warm him foot to face.

Perhaps his frosted hands will rest
And icy breath turn into steam
His head could lay upon his chest
And be enticed mayhap to dream.
    If we could merely bid him rest
    Perhaps his ice will turn to dreams.

And there, maybe, by fire's glow
He'll sleep until the winter's gone
Mild and warm, convinced to go,
And let the spring come early on.
    Oh let him mellow, let him go,
    And usher spring in, early on.