Lead grey skies enfold like shrouds br To clothe the rain lashed mountain peaks br Birds huddle down with open beaks br Protesting to encroaching clouds. br br br Few trees give shelter from the blast br Though gnarled and twisted limbs can grow br Where no green leaf would dare to show br Defiance, once short summer’s past. br br br A lone man walks the lonely fells br And gazes at the lake below br Where once he with his love did go br To laugh among bright heather bells. br br br Within his hands he holds his dreams br Contained within a silver urn br Soon scattered, for frail man must learn br That fate has her own plots and schemes. br br br Then, facing land so harsh and crude br Like life, that he no longer fears br He walks and sheds his angry tears br The storm an echo of his mood.