Analysis of Dance of the winter spirits

The crystal flakes of every morn,
that darkened husk of snow lined bower,
reveal to us the crystal power,
and the frozen gates to every dawn.

The frozen gates with frosted glaze,
which bites the flesh as to amaze,
and frosted breath at which we gaze,
whilst out-about in snowy haze.

The spirits of the crystal dawn,
dance through icy crystals born,
of this new morn lacking sun,
and onto who knows where forlorn.

For now we see Yule's frozen height,
and shivering stems give up the fight,
perhaps to rest and then anew,
then spring's new praise of new born might.