 |
| The Ice Queen |
One must
have a mind of winter
To regard
the frost and the boughs
Of the
pine-trees crusted with snow;
 |
| The Ice Queen |
And have
been cold a long time
To behold
the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces
rough in the distant glitter
 |
| The Ice Queen |
Of the
January sun; and not to think
Of any
misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound
of a few leaves,
Which is the
sound of the land
Full of the
same wind
That is
blowing in the same bare place
 |
| The Ice Queen |
For the
listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing
himself, beholds
Nothing that
is not there and the nothing that is.
