Winter Winds and True Forges

 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind of strife, 

Thy gusts are not so fierce, so wild, 

As feignèd friends who turn and rifle 

Through hearts they vowed to guard, beguiled. 

Yet true roots hold through winter's bite— 

A spat, a silence, shadows brief— 

Not feigning's mask that flees from light, 

But honest mending, beyond belief. 

Heigh-ho! The real ones rise anew, 

From hiccups short, their tempests past; 

While false ones fade like morning dew— 

True friendship's forge, forever cast.  

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