158. To Morfydd

A VOICE on the winds,

A voice by the waters,

Wanders and cries:

Oh! what are the winds?

And what are the waters?

Mine are your eyes!

Western the winds are,

And western the waters,

Where the light lies:

Oh! what are the winds?

And what are the waters?

Mine are your eyes!

Cold, cold grow the winds,

And wild grow the waters,

Where the sun dies:

Oh! what are the winds?

And what are the waters?

Mine are your eyes!

And down the night winds,

And down the night waters,

The music flies:

Oh! what are the winds?

And what are the waters?

Cold be the winds,

And wild be the waters,

So mine be your eyes!