Wild weather, O my heart, and strong winds beating
The great trees straining in their despair.
The crumpled leaves that fall and flee
Whistle like ghosts across the air.
And how should I, lone mortal fleeting,
Not be uprooted by winds that, meeting,
Wrench at my limbs to cast them in the sea!
Wild weather, O my heart, for all my lovers,
The lads I loved in the time entombed,
Crumpled and stark against trench and tree,
Whistle like leaves through the woods engloomed.
There all year long my poor ghost hovers,
Never to see what the darkness covers,
The faces I loved of old that so loved me.