Love’s Winter Poem by John William Inchbold

O come, white snow, and hide the Summer dead!
Let not a flower of all I loved be seen!
O blinding sky of grey, hide what has been,
That Memory may rest her weary head:—
Come ice and bind this once too beauteous earth!
For sunshine now and Spring to me are foes,
Since every flower but multiplies my woes,
Adding fresh pain with every new Spring birth;—
Come snow and ice and mist, bid me forget
How far I went with love, how far I saw,
How suddenly came night when love passed by:—
The soft white snow has joys unknown as yet,
Into sweet slumber here I may withdraw,
And pass perhaps to love without a sigh.