O WHITE wind, numbing the world
to a mask of suffering hate!
and thy goblin pipes have skirl-d
all night, at my broken gate.

O heart, be hidden and kept
in a half-light colour-d and warm,
and call on thy dreams that have slept
to charm thee from hate and harm.

They are gone, for I might not keep;
my sense is beaten and dinn-d;
there is no peace but a grey sleep
in the pause of the wind.