Come snow, while the morn is of thy breath,
While the leaves blanket the ground.
They had never been afraid of death,
And so passed without a sound.
A ghostly silence hangs in the air,
Memory of days now gone,
Of youth and a forgotten prayer.
Both never reaching the dawn.
Nothing hurts so much as the waiting,
No beauty but a cruel sting.
A child for mother is crying,
So it is I weep for spring.
When life runs anew in the valley,
As the birds burst forth in song,
All born again that ended sadly,
I pray it will not be long.