Shall I find thee all in ice ensnared,
the tree boughs stripped, the blossoms bared,
trapped in a wet and wintry grave -
the blight of snow and hoarfrost shared?
They brought you here, their souls enslaved.
The altar where your minions prayed -
a brilliant diadem of ice,
the offering that your cold heart craved.
They linger here whilst you entice
their frozen limbs as sacrifice.
Their wizened hands by you declared
the chosen few who paid your price
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