Done is the short dark day

Now here's the first smell of ashes


The loosened ice breaks away

The dreadful water flashes.

Seaward a mountain rides,

And down its green sides,

A foamy torrent dashes.



My ship is moored for thee

By the deep ocean's floor

It will skim the sea

Drifting amongst fears we ignore

We'll go on this tiny island,

Where the sun warms the sand

Resting light heads beside the shore.



Or I'll wait for you where the four winds blow,

With flowers colored and fair,

While upon an isle of snow,

I'd imagine your floating hair.



And when red skies and burning clouds

Will bespeak the end of summer

And when mountains will wear shrouds

Of snow that melt no more,

We will settle down our sailing minds

And with Love may our winter midnights be bind.

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