letra de thou, whose face hath felt the winter's wind - sun of the sleepless
o thou, whose face hath felt the winter’s wind,
whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
and the black elm tops ‘mong the freezing stars,
to thee the spring will be a harvest time.
o thou, whose only book has been the light
of supreme darkness which thou feddest on
o thou, whose only book has been the light
of supreme darkness which thou feddest on
night after night when phaebus was away,
to thee the spring shall be a triple morn.
o thou, whose face hath felt the winter’s wind,
whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
and the black elm tops ‘mong the freezing stars,
to thee the spring shall be a harvest time.
o thou, whose face hath felt the winter’s wind,
whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
o thou, whose only book has been the light
of supreme darkness which thou feddest on
night after night when phaebus was away,
to thee the spring shall be a triple morn.
o fret not after knowledge – i have none,
and yet my song comes native with the warmth.
o fret not after knowledge – i have none,
and yet the evening listens.
he who saddens at thought of idleness cannot be idle,
and he’s awake who thinks himself asleep.
o thou who bent in all the autumn-storms,
like the trees at the moor amidst the woeful winds.
to thy wretched heart the spring shall be a triple morn –
alas! i still long for it! i long for it!
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