 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
314
IN A COLLEGE GARDEN
Birds, that cry so loud in the old, green, bowery garden,
Your song is of Love! Love! Love! Will ye weary not nor cease?
For the loveless soul grows sick, the heart that the grey days harden;
I know too well that ye love! I would ye should hold your peace!
Your song is of Love! Love! Love! Will ye weary not nor cease?
For the loveless soul grows sick, the heart that the grey days harden;
I know too well that ye love! I would ye should hold your peace!
I too have seen Love rise, like a star; I have marked his setting;
I dreamed in my folly and pride that Life without Love were peace.
But if Love should await me yet, in the land of sleep and forgetting—
Ah, bird, could you sing me this, I would not your song should cease!
I dreamed in my folly and pride that Life without Love were peace.
But if Love should await me yet, in the land of sleep and forgetting—
Ah, bird, could you sing me this, I would not your song should cease!
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |