Oh, Gentle-breath comes crying—comes crying in the night
Among the sleeping flowers, with footsteps swift and light.
Her tears are on their faces—she sheds them for their sakes,
And there is in her singing a tender heart that breaks.
O Gentle-breath! O Gentle-breath!—
How tunefully she sings of death!
Oh, Gentle-breath goes wailing—goes shivering away,
And Icy-breath comes howling, and clouds are dull and gray.
Oh, Icy-breath comes howling—the pine trees sob o'erhead
For the leaves that all have fallen, the flowers that are dead.