European Elegies/Winter/Mourning
52.MOURNING
Everywhere I pass to-dayCold rocks wall my wretched way;Down the granite wastes a-wing,Winter winds have slain the spring,As my frosts of grief have done,Marring May when scarce begun,Nor can showers of my weepingRouse that dead joy from its sleeping.Could I be the grave's dark guest,I would gladly take my rest.
From a Romany folk-song (Gipsies of Hungary).