I fain would outpour all my sorrows
In a single word to-day.
To the merry winds I would trust it,
They would merrily bear it away.
They would bear it to thee, my darling,
The word of sorrowful grace.
Thou should'st hear it at every hour,
Thou shouldst hear it in every place.
And scarce in the midnight darkness
Shouldst thou close thine eyes in sleep,
Ere my whispered word, it would follow,
Though thy dream were ever so deep.