Laughs down upon the battle lost and won,

And crowns the triumph of the cloudy host

In rolling lines retreating to the coast.

 But we, fond lovers of the woodland shade, And grateful friends of every fallen leaf, Forget the glories of the cloud-parade, And walk the ruined woods in quiet grief.

But we, fond lovers of the woodland shade,

And grateful friends of every fallen leaf,

Forget the glories of the cloud-parade,

And walk the ruined woods in quiet grief.

 For ever so our thoughtful hearts repeat On fields of triumph dirges of defeat; And still we turn on gala-days to tread Among the rustling memories of the dead.

For ever so our thoughtful hearts repeat

On fields of triumph dirges of defeat;

And still we turn on gala-days to tread

Among the rustling memories of the dead.

1874.

 A SNOW-SONG

 Does the snow fall at sea? Yes, when the north winds blow, When the wild clouds fly low, Out of each gloomy wing, Silently glimmering, Over the stormy sea Falleth the snow.

Does the snow fall at sea?

Yes, when the north winds blow,

When the wild clouds fly low,

Out of each gloomy wing,

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