WORLD, WIND, LEAVES AND SNOW
Reading edition
World.
Grey wind of the North! with thy burden so chill, (Oh! for the blast and the blowing,) Why flyest thou fast over river and rill, Adown the deep valley and up the steep hill, (Alas! for the storms that are sowing.) Through gloom-spreading forest, bare meadow, bleak moor, Above the sea-surges, along the sea shore, O! whither, grey wind, art thou going?
Wind.
The corpse of my lover my arms do enfold, (Oh! for the roar and the rattle.) Whose beauty was rarer and fairer than gold, Whose joys were bright jewels, unbought and unsold, (Alas! for the fear-stricken cattle.) And I chant in thine ear the sad dirge of the dead, For the summer is slain and the winter so dread Is hasting to offer thee battle.
World.
Sere leaves of the autumn, resplendent and bright, (Oh! for the frost and the fading.) Why fall ye so thickly by day and by night, With raining of color that dazzles the sight, (Alas! for the winter’s invading.) Till heaped on my bosom like relics of love Ye lie, sad remembrancers, sorrow to move My spirit with woe overlading.
Leaves.
We thought to have woven a garment of grace, (Oh! for the moon and the veiling.) Embroidered with beauties bright fancy should trace, But, alas! we have gazed on his death-stricken face, (Alas! for the heavens are paling.) And the robe of our fancy is changed to a pall And the garlands that lately did crown him must fall; Love’s labor is all unavailing.
World.
Pale snow, with a touch that is light as the air, (Oh! for sky’s cloud and earth’s cover.) Why weighest thou down on my heart filled with care, On my soul with its anguish too heavy to bear. (Alas! for the end when ’tis over.) In thy mantle of gauze why hid’st thou mine eyes, That would look at fond love e’er forever love lies In the grave of my newly-slain lover.
Snow.
I cover thy face lest the sight of thy dead, (Oh! for love, sacred and splendid.) Should strike in thy soul its unnameable dread, For sympathy now and forever is fled, (Alas! for lost love, undefended.) And I wrap up thy breast with the warmth of my heart, Which shall stay till the spring breaks and bids me depart, When the time of thy mourning is ended.