Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon....
[264]. "Woe weeps out Her Division when She sings."
This means, I think, that she adds her own grieved cadences to the melody, as may one, among many voices, singing in harmony.