Mathilde Blind - The Evening of the Year lyrics

Wan mists enwrap the still-born day; The harebell withers on the heath; And all the moorland seems to breathe The hectic beauty of decay. Within the open grave of May Dishevelled trees drop wreath on wreath; Wind-wrung and ravelled underneath Waste leaves choke up the woodland way. The grief of many partings near Wails like an echo in the wind: The days of love lie far behind, The days of loss lie shuddering near. Life's morning-glory who shall bind? It is the evening of the year.