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