A little island of mildness
In the maelstrom of frost,
Where the ice has been finding
It harder to gloss,
And the chiming is idle
Underneath the roof tops
As a fireside recital
Replaces snow drops.
Put a pot upon the grate,
A pool of stew into a bowl,
A sneaky tot to decorate
Their tour of your soul,
As she aloft is on her way
To prove the passion’s hold,
And heat the croft you venerate
And love you until cold.
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