Lonely and cold and fierce I keep my way,
  Scourge of the lands, companioned by the storm,
Tossing to heaven my frontlet, wild and gray,
  Mateless, yet conscious ever of a warm
And brooding presence close to mine all day.

What is this alien thing, so near, so far,
  Close to my life always, but blending never,—
Hemmed in by walls...