A gem inside the cube of ice

(I wrote this a while ago, experimenting with repeating lines.)

In my backyard there sits a cube of ice.
I move it not, disturb it not, and pray
There be a gem inside the cube of ice.

The frost upon it's surface is a vice.
The grass around the cube is dead and gray.
I wait, ice may sublime, so be my price.

The more I look at it, the less precise
The thought becomes, but still it does not sway:
There is a gem inside the cube of ice.

I hesitate to break or melt the ice,
For if I haste, much more will melt away!
I wait, ice may sublime, so be my price.

I think about it, yet seek no advice,
For though the cube looks terrible today,
There is a gem inside the cube of ice.
I wait. Ice may sublime. So be my price.