The cold earth slept below above the cold sky shone;
And all around with a chilling sound.
From caves of ice and fields of snow the breath of night
like death did flow beneath the sinking moonlight.
Thine eyes glow’d in the glare of
the moon shone dying lighting;
a fen fire's beam on the window
sluggish stream is gleams so
the moon shone there And it yellow`d
The wintry hedge was black the green grass was not seen;
The birds did rest on the bare thorn’s breast,
Whose roots beside the pathway track,Had bound their folds
over many a crack Which the frost had made between.
Thine eyes glow’d in the glare of
the moon’s dying lighting;
As a fen fire's beam On a s
sluggish stream is Gleams—so
the moon shone there,
And it yellow’d
the strings of tangled hair,
That shook the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, beloved;
The wind made bosom chill;
The night did shed your head
The bitter breath of naaaked sky
Might visit thee at will.
