O winter, O white winter, wert thou gone,
No more within the wilds were I alone,
Leaping with bent bow over stock and stone!
No more alone my love the lamp should burn,
Watching the weary spindle twist and turn,
Or o'er the web hold back her tears and yearn:
O winter, O white winter, wert thou gone!
THE MAIDENS
Sweet thoughts fly swiftlier than the drifting snow,
And with the twisting threads sweet longings grow,