There is a wind where the rose was;
cold rain where sweet grass was;
and clouds like sheep
stream o'er the steep
grey skies where the lark was.
Nought gold where you hair was;
nought warm where your hand was;
but phantom,forlorn,
beneath the thorn,
your ghost where your face was.
Sad winds where your voice was;
tears,tears where my heart was;
and ever with me
child,ever with me,
silence where hope was.
|
Switch to English 
