Blow cold, blow cruel.
Blow how ye will,
Your chill can ne'er compare
To the coldness in his heart.
December's frigid gale
Is warmer than is he:
So cold, so cruel.
So blow, you wintry winds,
And moan for this poor fool
Whose heart's a frozen sea:
Now cold, now cruel,
Who ne'er looks back at me.
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