| The Lost Heifer | |
| When the black herds of the rain were grazing, | |
| In the gap of the pure cold wind | |
| And the watery hazes of the hazel | |
| Brought her into my mind, | |
| I thought of the last honey by the water | 5 |
| That no hive can find. | |
| Brightness was drenching through the branches | |
| When she wandered again, | |
| Turning sliver out of dark grasses | |
| Where the skylark had lain, | 10 |
| And her voice coming softly over the meadow | |
| Was the mist becoming rain. |
