Oh my grief! oh my grief!
Oh my grief all the morning!
Oh my grief all the even!
Oh my grief all the night!
Over flower, over leaf
Falls the shade of her scorning,
And darkens blue heaven
With its desolate blight.

Oh, wind, and oh, wind
Wailing over the forest,
With thee my sad spirit
Would fain wander forth!
Thus all unconfined,
When sorrow was sorest,
I too should inherit
The strange, silent North.

More pure and more chaste,
Thou desolate Norland,
Than the South's sighing languors
In bowers rose-hung,
Thy wan, winter waste,
Thy still solemn foreland,
Aurora's red angers
The white stars among.