Come From The Cold Poem by Prince Rodoki

Come from the cold, come pure child
Come from the mould that makes the racks chide
Come from the fold: first of its pride
Come with the gold; lay it on earth's landslide.
Come with memories, come with a golden tinging wing
Come like canaries freely hooting their ring
Come like old fairies flirt-dancing with their king
Come with worries but nothing to sting.
Come with me, come by me
Come through the hordes of death, come by me
Come before the horses of dearth, come
Come after the horns of debt to the earth's landslide
Come to lay the gold where the racks chide
Come as the fold, like a charming bride
Come with a hold on what was sold
Come bold, come as the pure child
Come by me, come with pride.