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.