Draw me

With Love's chord

To thee.

For I

Am lost

In my

Own frost.

Cold my heart,

Warm thine.

Bad the smart.. .

Be mine.

Thaw this

My own

Amiss:

Pride's tone--

Will it end,

Ever?

Will my mend;

Sever!

My hope

Art thou.

I cope

For now.

But great gain

Is Love.

God, do deign