Ode: Winter's Coming

Winter has come with a cold no one can turn away, and even hard stone cannot bear to suffer it. I have no cup, no brazier to warm me; I am like the darkness itself, and my purse, well, there is nothing in it. Set the book aside, forget the purse. What a pity, if only there were a cloak to wrap ourselves in through these dark nights. I beg you, my lord, for what my hope requires; a servant hopes for nothing except from his masters.