I love to see, when leaves depart, The clear anatomy arrive, Winter, the paragon of art, That kills all forms of life and feeling Save what is pure a… - Roy Campbell

Our spirits leaped, hosannas of destruction,
Like desert lilies forked with tongues of fire.

With white tails smoking free,
Long streaming manes, and arching necks, they show
Their kinship to their sisters of the sea –
And forward hurl their thunderbolts of snow.
Still out of hardships bred,
Spirits of power and beauty and delight
Have ever on such frugal pastures fed
And loved to course with tempests through the night.

Translations (like wives) are seldom strictly faithful if they are in the least attractive.