كلمات Thou Whose Face Hath Felt The Winter's Wind

O thou, whose face hath felt the winter's wind Whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist And the black elm tops 'mong the freezing stars To thee the spring will be a harvest time O thou, whose only book has been the light Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on O thou, whose only book has been the light Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on Night after night when phaebus was away To thee the spring shall be a triple morn O thou, whose face hath felt the winter's wind Whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist And the black elm tops 'mong the freezing stars To thee the spring shall be a harvest time O thou, whose face hath felt the winter's wind Whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist O thou, whose only book has been the light Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on Night after night when phaebus was away To thee the spring shall be a triple morn O fret not after knowledge - I have none And yet my song comes native with the warmth O fret not after knowledge - I have none And yet the evening listens He who saddens at thought of idleness cannot be idle And he's awake who thinks himself asleep O thou who bent in all the autumn-storms Like the trees at the moor amidst the woeful winds To thy wretched heart the spring shall be a triple morn Alas! I still long for it! I long for it!