RETURN no more, O splendid sun,
  Sweet days, come back no more;
Bring back no more the budding hours,
  The springtime to my door.

The calling bird, the wakening brook,
  Make mock upon mine ear;
For she who loved them with me then
  Went out with yearteryear.

Fold, fold the year for aye in snows,
  Howl, Winter, by my door;
For she, my rose, my bloom of life,
  Is snow for evermore.