Winter Night Song
Willyou come as of old with singing,And shall I hear as of old?Shall I rush to open the windowIn spite of the arrowy cold?Ah no, my dear, ah no,I shall sit by the fire reading,Though you sing half the night in the snowI shall not be heeding.Though your voice remembers the forest,The warm green light and the birds,Though you gather the sea in your singingAnd pour its sound into words,Even so, my dear, even so,I shall not heed you at all;Though your shoulders are white with snow,Though you strain your voice to a call,I shall drowse and the fire will drowse,The draught will be cold on the floor,The clock running down,Snow banking the door.
Willyou come as of old with singing,And shall I hear as of old?Shall I rush to open the windowIn spite of the arrowy cold?Ah no, my dear, ah no,I shall sit by the fire reading,Though you sing half the night in the snowI shall not be heeding.Though your voice remembers the forest,The warm green light and the birds,Though you gather the sea in your singingAnd pour its sound into words,Even so, my dear, even so,I shall not heed you at all;Though your shoulders are white with snow,Though you strain your voice to a call,I shall drowse and the fire will drowse,The draught will be cold on the floor,The clock running down,Snow banking the door.
Willyou come as of old with singing,And shall I hear as of old?Shall I rush to open the windowIn spite of the arrowy cold?
Willyou come as of old with singing,
And shall I hear as of old?
Shall I rush to open the window
In spite of the arrowy cold?
Ah no, my dear, ah no,I shall sit by the fire reading,Though you sing half the night in the snowI shall not be heeding.
Ah no, my dear, ah no,
I shall sit by the fire reading,
Though you sing half the night in the snow
I shall not be heeding.
Though your voice remembers the forest,The warm green light and the birds,Though you gather the sea in your singingAnd pour its sound into words,
Though your voice remembers the forest,
The warm green light and the birds,
Though you gather the sea in your singing
And pour its sound into words,
Even so, my dear, even so,I shall not heed you at all;Though your shoulders are white with snow,Though you strain your voice to a call,I shall drowse and the fire will drowse,The draught will be cold on the floor,The clock running down,Snow banking the door.
Even so, my dear, even so,
I shall not heed you at all;
Though your shoulders are white with snow,
Though you strain your voice to a call,
I shall drowse and the fire will drowse,
The draught will be cold on the floor,
The clock running down,
Snow banking the door.