Now, now, when the wind wakes
And the dead leaves stammer in the walks
And the ill keys rattle in their locks
And the chestnut bends beneath the strokes,
Now lean upon my breast.

Now, now when the branch breaks
And the pane sings and the door creaks
And the loosened window flies out next
And the rent sky splits and the oak is vexed,
Now lie upon my breast.

Now, now that the waves roar
And the grasses beat beside the shore
And the long haar rolls up the coast,
Now, when the bird has lost its nest,
Now sleep upon my breast.


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