A fool I was to sleep at noon,  And wake when night is chilly Beneath the comfortless cold moon; A fool to pluck my rose too soon,  A fool to snap my lily. My garden-plot I have not kept;  Faded and all-forsaken,I weep as I have never wept: Oh it was summer when I slept,  It's winter now I waken. Talk what you please of future spring  And sun-warm'd sweet to-orrow: Stripp'd bare of hope and everything, No more to laugh, no more to sing,  I sit alone with sorrow.
Christina Rossetti
death, sorrow, spring, winter