Flight

*
"The Book of Odes", by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1908],

p. 19

"FLIGHT"

Cold and keen the north wind blows,

Silent falls the shroud of snows.

You who gave me your heart

Let us join hands and depart!

Is this a time for delay?

Now, while we may,

Let us away.

Wailingly the north wind goes,

Wailing through a whirl of snows.

You who gave me your heart

Let us join hands and depart!

Is this a time for delay?

Now, while we may,

Let us away.

Only the lonely fox is red,

Black but the crow-flight overhead.

You who gave me your heart,

The chariot creaks to depart,

Is this a time for delay?

Now, while we may,

Let us away.