FOR a name unknown, Whose fame unblown Sleeps in the hills   For ever and aye;

For her who hears The stir of the years Go by on the wind   By night and day;

And heeds no thing Of the needs of spring, Of autumn's wonder   Or winter's chill;

For one who sees The great sun freeze, As he wanders a-cold   From hill to hill;

And all her heart Is a woven part Of the flurry and drift   Of whirling snow;

For the sake of two Sad eyes and true, And the old, old love   So long ago.