The Book of Odes, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1908]
Cold and keen the north wind blows,
Silent falls the shroud of snows.
You who gave me your heart
Let us join hands and depart!
Is this a time for delay?
Now, while we may,
Let us away.
Wailingly the north wind goes,
Wailing through a whirl of snows.
You who gave me your heart
Let us join hands and depart!
Is this a time for delay?
Now, while we may,
Let us away.
Only the lonely fox is red,
Black but the crow-flight overhead.
You who gave me your heart,
The chariot creaks to depart,
Is this a time for delay?
Now, while we may,
Let us away.