[Chapter IV - The Passage begins]
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.
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