Winter

Winter’s still prevailing,
In this mid-summer’s day.
The tempest and the hailing
They make one wither away.

A bird was singing to me,
Upon that tree top high.
I watched it singing gaily
And saw it drop and die.

“I wonder what had killed it.”
I thought with a sigh.
And started walking to it,
When I saw a small kid cry.

He said, he did not mean to
Make the snowball that way fly.
I said “There is no snow-ball.
Now I think I’ll say good-bye.”

And at that very moment
I felt compassion die;
I was feeling cold inside
And I really knew not why.

The boy stopped his crying
And looked me in the eye;
He asked me with the coolest voice
“Are you ready, sir, to die?”

I felt my lungs ice up,
Collapse and sigh.
My kidney and my liver,
Burst inside.

The boy, he laughed,
With glee and joy.
He then revealed
His awful ploy:

“A messenger
Of God I am.
And the likes of you
I am to damn.”