Away, the distant gales bring
The noblest trees to weeping.
Far above the valleys sweeping,
Isolated church-bells ring.

Beyond the brittle urban winds
Of cities never sleeping,
A mute and mournful nightly breezing
Sweeps the moon upon its wings.

Somewhere cold and far away.

Peace is never truly lost
It merely doesn't stay.

Raptured by the valley-frost
Into the veiled sea of grey:
Often gone, but never lost.

Simply weeping

Far away.