Dark wind that whimpers long and dry,
Whistling against the tall spire --
Lonely is the night's cold cry.

Softly, slowly, sounds the chilling sigh,
Against gentle rain, sharp echoes from the choir
dark -- wind that whimpers long and dry.

Faces bathed in glowing light, upturned to the stormy sky.
I, lurking in the shadows deep -- cold fire --
Lonely is the night's cold cry.

Reflections in the bright blind eye,
Though I long, I do not desire
dark wind, that whimpers long and dry.

I turn away to damp drizzled streets, say good-bye
to sparkling faces, heedless to my mire.
Lonely, lonely is the night's cold cry.

Walking, I wonder, why?
That God should see it all from far above that lonely spire;
Dark wind that whimpers long and dry,
Lonely is the night's cold cry.