as the sun is to the city   in the endless weeping winter   so is joy to me, and pity    when he leaves me, falsely tender   like the true love’s knot we tethered   plastic ivy ‘round the portal   for to frame the spring forever   though the blizzard took the mortal holy rose   it’s always winter when he goes      as a matter of convenience   we don’t speak of dying gardens   as a woman of heart and lenience   i make liberal with my pardons   i am generous with kindness   he, with smiles and exultations   though he binds his wounds in silence   i my own in practiced patience, lest he know   it’s always winter when he goes      he collects the twigs and briars   i stack them up for fire   but it’s chilly for the burning      he slumbers in the straw   i hold out for the thaw   but the seasons won’t be turning      as i’m writing you this letter   the bluestem’s runnin riot   the daisies break their fetters   and the bees will not lay quiet   if you find him where he’s dancin   with his lover or his jailer   say in april’s splendid mansion   i lay broken by his trailer in the snow   it’s always winter when he goes