[Lyric] The Aftermath (Evoking Winds)

When the summer fields are mown
When the birds are fledged and flown
And the dry leaves
Strew the path
With the falling of the snow
With the cawing of the crow
Once again the fields we mow
And gather in the aftermath

Not the sweet, new grass with flowers
Is this harvesting of ours;
Not the upland clover
Bloom
But the rowen mixed with weeds
Tangled tufts from marsh and meads
Where the poppy drops its seeds
In the silence and the gloom