Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/181

 Green land and red land, Moorside and headland, Are white as dead land, Are all as one; Nor honied heather, Nor bells to gather, Fair with fair weather And faithful sun: Fierce frost has eaten All flowers that sweeten The fells rain‑beaten; And winds their foes Have made the snow's bed Down in the rose‑bed; Deep in the snow's bed bury the rose.

Bury her deeper Than any sleeper;