On a Winter Night
The breath hangs in a frosty cloud on her pale lips,
The air is frozen in her lungs
Completely still she lays there-
Upon this hiemal moment her fate is hung.
The moon lies on her back in the sky,
And the white fire of the stars is dim
As coals that die for want of air-
In the pond the ice creeps at the rim.
She lays on the stones of a barren city
As though sculpted from the snow,
And the moment has no beating heart,
No flickering eye, no sign of life to show.
The city clock strikes the hour
The moment passes on, an icy black river
But she lays ever still and cold
Not a breath, not a shiver.
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