Freeze, reading signals, a chill in the wind,
freeze... and its harbinger, dull, sombre skies.
Thou, icy maiden, doth Autumn rescind.
Bitter your nip as our year quickly flies.
Sky- only promising more of the same.
Thou, frozen treachery, snow drifts pile higher.
Dost thou recall being fearful of flame?
Not to be daunted, we're lighting a fire.
Bite now, white beauty, see how we're warm,
so ineffective your blizzards might be.
Nigh to despair we'll yield not to the storm,
as for thy nonsense, thou chilled bourgeoise!
Benefits new growth from how seasons flow.
Forgot, did you, snow queen? Thou too shall go.
Quote: William Shakespeare
...As You Like It,
Act 2, Scene 7
Form: Shakespearean sonnet
Using all prescribed phrases
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