All beneath a wintering sky follow the wastrel butterfly with vermilion leaf or bronze tatters of gorgeous gonfalons
With the winds that always hold echo of clarions lost and old we must hasten, hasten on toward the azure world withdrawn.
We must wander, wander so where the ruining roses go where the poplar’s pallid leaves drift among the gathered sheaves.
In that harvest none shall glean where the twisted willows lean in their strange, tormented woe seeing, on the streamlet’s flow
Half their fragile leaves depart where the secret pines at heart high, funereal, vespertine guard eternal sorrows green we shall follow, we shall find haply, ere the light is blind the moulded place where beauty lay moon-beheld until the day.
In the woven windlestrae or the pool of tourmaline rimmed with golden reeds, that was in the dawn a tiring-glass for her undelaying mein ever wander, wander so where the ruining roses go all beneath a wintering sky follow the wastrel butterfly follow the wastrel butterfly all beneath a wintering sky ever wander, wander so where the ruining roses go.