I am wearing a scarf, the scarf I was wearing
the time we near-froze in the frost of the night
Yes, the night of the moon and the cataract stars
all the night-winds, they bit and they howled like a fright
In the loveliest hour of the doubling noons
and I sighed, brother-gasp, not so loud as the winds
But sighed all the wind in my pipes and went faint
in the faint-headed squall of the girl who depends
So much, oh, so much on the church-tower bells
on the Heavenmost hill of the prettiest town
Where the pealing of bells sounds only in hours
when the ground is popping all out of its flowers
And the roseate rose is picked from the earth
and the astrophil children are star-struck from birth
I am wearing a scarf, the scarf I was wearing
the time we near-froze in the frost of the night