A dark wind bellows about Staining all of grey moors, The whole dire frozen sky, Shivers and dearly quakes, Let mine rag out over seas With clearest sails of eyes, Let me hear one bold stag, Stately shout in mossy bog, Let me fly with black of crow, Splash over the sodden sun, Free me from bane sorrows, Ancient Rowan trees who run, My love has left, sure as time, And tears are lost in frost hails, What will become of only mine?