The frost of death was on the pane

The Frost of Death was on the Pane -
"Secure your Flower" said he.
Like Sailors fighting with a Leak
We fought Mortality -

Our passive Flower we held to Sea -
To mountain - to the Sun -
Yet even on his Scarlet shelf
To crawl the Frost begun -

We pried him back
Ourselves we wedged
Himself and her between -
Yet easy as the narrow Snake
He forked his way along

Till all her helpless beauty bent
And then our wrath begun -
We hunted him to his Ravine
We chased him to his Den -

We hated Death and hated Life
And nowhere was to go -
Than Sea and continent there is
A larger - it is Woe