The frosty touch of Old Man Winter’s hand
Has placed his grip upon this frozen vale,
And holds in sway all aspects of the land
With just a puff of his most freezing gale.
For even water flowing swift and strong,
Cascading over precipice so great,
Cannot escape the season’s touch for long,
Least even change the outcome of its fate.
For Boreas has turned the world to ice,
And loosed his children known as Wind and Snow,
Then clamped his chilly grip, just like a vice.
So mighty torrents are the last to go.
Yes, even waterfalls are frozen stiff,
To be transformed into an icy cliff.