Winding through a gentle hour,
Dreaming dreams of dark and dour
Relentless spirits seeking winter
In the wine of summer's vintage
Squeezed from grapes of past delight
Drinking, sinking out of sight.
A somber Muse! So cold and fair
And yet forlorn. I cannot care
For unsung songs in unborn time
Not even in an unrhymed rhyme.