Winters longing day.

Poised in shadow as liken pale, the ivory coasline and the sea,

waves to rush one's lonesome core, in up most vanity,

How do the flowers last through frost, the winter burns to touch such ice,

And in the morning fresh to rise, make floating air as nice,

The vibrations of a lonely flower, cut to vase in times display,

Would most outlive the garden flower, in winters longing day.