SONG

Softly sighs the gracious wind — Dash of rose, in deeps of sky, Love is fair and love is kind,— Singing free — I passed him by.

Shredded clouds are whirled in air, Winter stalks adown the gale Tossing wide Love's golden hair — Cease the singing — Love grows pale.

Howls the grey sky to the sea — Loose the storm-dogs from their bed. Turned I back — and woe is me — I must die — for Love is dead.