Shadows gather, closer come
while the cold are dumb, alone
in their nights and shadows rain
where the reign of day's unknown
save as rumours, nothing more:
rising out of mor and earth
with the setting of the sun,
night's begun, and the dark's birth
over lands and over seas,
eager to seize, eager take
till all's rime-encumbered, cold
as is heartless gold and hate.
Shadow gathers, shadow hates,
convocations form and flow
whispering of runes of night
with no light to break shadows.