Why

FOR a name unknown,

Whose fame unblown

Sleeps in the hills

For ever and aye;

For her who hears

The stir of the years

Go by on the wind

By night and day;

And heeds no thing

Of the needs of Spring,

Of Autumn’s wonder

Or Winter’s chill;

For one who sees

The great sun freeze,

As he wanders a-cold

From hill to hill;

And all her heart

Is a woven part

Of the flurry and drift

Of whirling snow;

For the sake of two

Sad eyes and true,

And the old, old love

So long ago.