There is an umbrella from the old town
It shades the broken lads from the rain
And mends the widow's last hope
But the rain resounds not in its roof ...
I run every nooks and crannies
Looking for you that wasn't found in me
Because I knew that you weren't here
But at the discovery of you I cooled off ...
Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
... Read complete poem
