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