 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
297
A SONG OF SWEET THINGS THAT HAVE AN END
The dark wood and the solemn sky,
The moon's face on the glimmering pool,
The full stream singing drowsily,
The faint breeze out of the thicket cool.
Heart speaketh to heart,
Friend is glad with friend;
The golden hours depart,
Sweet things have an end.
The moon's face on the glimmering pool,
The full stream singing drowsily,
The faint breeze out of the thicket cool.
Heart speaketh to heart,
Friend is glad with friend;
The golden hours depart,
Sweet things have an end.
The white cloud on the green down's edge,
The clear stream by the gravel small,
Pale honey-horns that swing in the hedge,
The cock's halloo and the dove's low call.
Heart speaketh to heart,
Friend is glad with friend;
The golden hours depart,
Sweet things have an end.
The clear stream by the gravel small,
Pale honey-horns that swing in the hedge,
The cock's halloo and the dove's low call.
Heart speaketh to heart,
Friend is glad with friend;
The golden hours depart,
Sweet things have an end.
Hidden music airily heard,
The child's voice in the warm woodways,
The soft glance and the murmured word,
The soft close of the summer days.
Heart speaketh to heart,
Friend is glad with friend;
The golden hours depart,
Sweet things have an end.
The child's voice in the warm woodways,
The soft glance and the murmured word,
The soft close of the summer days.
298
Friend is glad with friend;
The golden hours depart,
Sweet things have an end.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |