Out of the formless stream
Of sad horrible sounds,
Heartless and miserable.
The night was railing against
The morning of which it was bereaved.

The cold cursed the warmth
For which it hungered.
Chilled to the marrow.
Dread heart incantation.
Cold be hand, heart and bone.

Cold be sleep under stone.
Nevermore to wake on stony bed.
Never, till the sun fails and moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
Over dead sea and withered land lie.
Dead in stone.
Withered in blackened barrow.