From the Land of Dreams | ||
32
PARTING
I
You come, and the little rhymes come singing in my heart,And where you are their music wakes trembling in my breast;
When you go from me, O my sorrow! they spread their wings and depart,
Like birds from a lonely nest.
II
They fly to where you make summer, and leave me cold,Their nest forsaking, they leave me cold and alone,
And my heart is a lonely sorrow, a sorrow not to be told,
Its music a weary moan!
From the Land of Dreams | ||