'Tis cold in my heart as the woods are cold,
Where the bleak trees quake in the bitter wind.
The fallen leaves are a riot of red,
But they are not warm, they are dead instead.
'Tis cold in the woods as my heart is cold,
And the kiss of death is borne on the wind.
'Tis chill in my heart as the air is chill,
And my thoughts are bare like the barren trees.
A flame-flush spreads over the western sky,
But the fire comes only when day must die.
'Tis chill in the air as my heart is chill
With desires that are frozen like the trees.
