I am hungry for the naked branch; I would breathe

The thin harsh air of winter and grow strong.

It is not my home, this tempered clime

I have been pampered here too long, too long.

There is no challenge in a placid warmth - 

My blood moves slow in this too pretty land.

Oh, let me have the bleak steel skies of winter;

Let me answer to the somber wind's demand.