birth and dying

 armies were marching

through the lowlands in winter

as she ran through the fields

to her only love

bleak were the hedgerows

the fastnesses lonely

the wind took their whispering

and gave it the wilds

the wilds took their whispering

and made it a song

of dreams that are broken

and dreams yet to be

her footsteps returned

to the place of her growing

and she slept like an angel

though armies were marching