A crimson bloom in winter's snow, born out of time.like a maiden's woe, spawned in a season when the chill winds blow."twas found in a shltere spot,bright sterling gules and blemished not,red as a drop o'blood from the broken heart, of the maid who waits and weeps atop the tor,left behind by yon argent kinght sworn to war,"til ajousting and aquesting he goes no more.fear not, sweet jo amoulderin on the moor. the winter's rose doth promise in the fading runes of yore, that true love... (continue reading)
