The Nostalgic Conceit

I do trust, indeed, that you've been doing fine,
Since I last saw Your Grace; it may be a sign
Of the Lord of Light that thus split us asunder,
As rain doth to dust when it's brought by thunder!
For the Lord well knew that Winter had just come,
Bringing with it something that was sickly dumb!
Maesters of the old times, and the new, alike,
Could not cure it early! O for one good spike
That would just impale them chin through nose to head,
As they did, unjustly, to our good old Ned!
'Twould be a foul season for one and all, we knew;
Yet, with time we oldened and in wisdom we grew!
I do hope, regardless, that I can remain patient,
Wait out the cold here, South of the Wall, where ancient
Dead men shall not take me, dead or alive! I'd pay
All the North to see you one more time, someday!
E.K