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.