A Little While To Walk With Thee, Dear Child; To Lean On Thee My Weak And Weary Head; Then Evening Comes: The Winter Sky Is Wild, The Leafless Trees Are Black, The Leaves Long Dead. A Little While To Hold Thee And To Stand, By Harvest-Fields Of Bending Golden Corn; Then The Predestined Silence, And Thine Hand, Lost In The Night, Long And Weary And Forlorn. A Little While To Love Thee, Scarcely Time To Love Thee Well Enough; Then Time To Part, To Fare Through Wintry Fields Alone And Climb The Frozen Hills, Not Knowing Where Thou Art. Short Summer-Time And Then, My Heart'S Desire, The Winter And The Darkness: One By One The Roses Fall, The Pale Roses Expire Beneath The Slow Decadence Of The Sun.