I watched the ghost wind sway the grass,
And rake the waves with unseen tines,
Blow spoors from nodding dandelions,
Across a rippled lake of glass.
That lake is like a mirror set
Within some Sirenís castle keep
And all who gaze therein must sleep
The awful sleep of sad regret.
And now that ghost wind fills the sail
Of my poor ship of broken dreams
Till all this world to my heart seems
So like the coldest Winter gale.