Dream was neater In the winter Divided by the iced canals, We heard the squeal Of freight-train wheels And hourly chimes of steeple bells.
I wanted you, I called to you To bring the storm that lovers do, The pupil's calm In the eye of storm Was dilated just for you.
Season's factories Defeat our victories, Bringing failures in their turn, The flower tries To return what dies To the flame in which we all must burn.