Ii

"Come snow, come wind or thunder High up in air, I watch my face, and wonder At my bright hair; Nought else exalts or grieves The rose at heart, that heaves With love of her own leaves and lips that pair.

"She knows not loves that kissed her She knows not where. Art thou the ghost, my sister, White sister there, Am I the ghost, who knows? My hand, a fallen rose, Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.

"I cannot see what pleasures Or what pains were; What pale new loves and treasures New years will bear; What beam will fall, what shower, What grief or joy for dower; But one thing-knows the flower; the flower is fair."