West wind blew in from the high Pennine passes
ravaged my roses polite in the hedge
cast down the blackbirds' nest from the forsythia
slaughtered the nestlings before they could fledge
whisper it soft you south winds blowing
piers and jetties and spring tide flowing
dockyard hammers clatter clatter
sunlight dancing on the water
thin smoke streaming sea mass gleaming
Speak to me sweetly of flowered dresses
girls with summer-falling tresses
fields of meadowsweet and willow
fragrant locks and grass a pillow
Rage aloud that young life passes
fallen herbs and wirthered grasses
gone the meadows girls all lost
autumn yields to winter frost
yearn for glimpse of yellow flowers
white of windflowers in the limewood
dying from the love of children
picking for a journey home
when the darkness comes too soon