Winter of My Discontent - Immortal Souls

Alas!

That I shall now die,

Not for deed or belief;

All I’ve been is glory,

Fear shall not embrace me.

Behold!

That I’m not for this,

Nor my mouth says of grief;

Kingdom for heartfelt love,

Passed are all that was formal.

Now is the winter of my discontent,

Made glorious by this sun of north;

All the clouds that lowered upon me,

Are fallen and deep snow buried.

Now is the winter of my discontent,

Made glorious by this sun of north;

Of forest that scent of pine refines,

At heavens caress the white that alights.