No leaf clings,
sings still the robin fierce,
piercing the gloom with song.
Long lie the shadows deep,
sleeping the dreams so dearly bought,
taut the wires that pull and bind.
Find we the path in this night,
light in this dark?
Hearken we to the voices of the dead,
treading their silent way back to their peace?
Ceases the clamour of heavy hearts,
parts the cloud and floods the moonlight,
bright glimmer paints the robin’s tree, though
no leaf clings.