html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }HE clouds gather fast, the oak woods roar,
The damsel paces the green of the shore;
The billows are breaking with might, with might,
And she pours forth her voice on the darksome night.
Her soul with sorrow is moved:—
"The heart is dead, and the world is drear,
There is nothing remains to live for here;
Take home thy little one, Holiest, now,
I have tasted the sweetest of things below,
For I have both lived and loved!"
E.