it is addressed thusly:
An ode.
it reads:
A frost clings to all things
Even the rain cannot break it
For the winter could make it
New again and again.
Do we remember when
There was light amid the gray
Clear and cold the watching sky
A breath of chill, the ground was dry
The waxing sun began the day
A golden blaze, though white the hue
The bright in sight the bareness blue
The shadows driv'n to quickly fade
But now where is warmth to thaw
Where is our hubris to bend the law
Of reality? Or does truth pervade
Against fig leaf and misdirecting word
Does conscience lie for overheard?
But the rain falls on brown-dead earth
The ice yields not lake nor reservoir
A pall of mist obscures the far
And middle distance - and of the worth
And all the poor shall suffer most
For the rich who would not count the cost
The lines extend amid the growing cold
Eyes cast down; as was four-score
And four spins; even then the rich abhor
Their new wealth, as moth-eaten old
But somewhere else, some other time
A dress of diamonds, this ancient rime
We rise early to a chromatic dawn
Clouds aflame with each passing hue
The shadows fleeting are passing on
In the distance a train-car sings
A frost clings to all things
On breath flows what must be true
And again the morning is new.

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