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?
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 12:32 AM UTC
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?
Request permission to use this poem