I do not know which of the chills
Is more mortal in import—
The one that descends from arctic ice,
Or from the hardened heart.
Or is it that the chill in the heart
Freezes Nature more
Than the season’s customary round
Of ages gone before.
For when all is said and done,
No heating warms as much
As the warmth of human hearts
That remain in tender touch.
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