The wild wind blows
in caverns – slows
the beating of my heart.
In darkness deep,
where creepers creep,
I dream of days, depart —
To summer sun
where rivers run,
and all the world’s an art —
And all of love,
a perfect glove,
and you, the perfect part.
The wild wind blows,
a blanket, snows,
alone, I’m miles apart —
shift 