I When The Thorn On The Down Quivers Naked And Cold, And The Mid-Aged And Old Pace The Path There To Town, In These Words Dry And Drear It Seems To Them Sighing: "O Winter Is Trying To Sojourners Here!" Ii When It Stands Fully Tressed On A Hot Summer Day, And The Ewes There Astray Find Its Shade A Sweet Rest, By The Breath Of The Breeze It Inquires Of Each Farer: "Who Would Not Be Sharer Of Shadow With These?" Iii But By Day Or By Night, And In Winter Or Summer, Should I Be The Comer Along That Lone Height, In Its Voicing To Me Only One Speech Is Spoken: "Here Once Was Nigh Broken A Heart, And By Thee."