The world is no phoenix
No fiery fire to swallow it
Nor birth amongst its ashes
Nature's death is cold and dreary
Six months of Death's gradual fury
First is Autumn - the warning
As Summer's healthy glow wanes
And red, yellow and orange fall to the floor
Becoming a dirty brown decor
Then comes the snow and ice
Of Winter, which by any other name
Would be just as cruel
And woe to the fool
Who strays into Winter's path.
The world is no phoenix
No immediate death and rebirth
Six months of suffering to endure
Before feeling Spring's cure
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