 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
290
SONGS' END.
THE chime of a bell of gold
That flutters across the air,
The sound of a singing of old,
The end of a tale that is told,
Of a melody strange and fair,
Of a joy that is grown despair:
That flutters across the air,
The sound of a singing of old,
The end of a tale that is told,
Of a melody strange and fair,
Of a joy that is grown despair:
For the things that have been for me
I shall never have them again;
The skies and the purple sea
And day like a melody
And night like a silver rain
Of stars on forest and plain.
I shall never have them again;
The skies and the purple sea
And day like a melody
And night like a silver rain
Of stars on forest and plain.
They are shut, the gates of the day;
The night has fallen on me:
My life is a lightless way;
I sing yet, while as I may.
Some day I shall cease, maybe:
I shall live on yet, you will see.
The night has fallen on me:
My life is a lightless way;
I sing yet, while as I may.
Some day I shall cease, maybe:
I shall live on yet, you will see.
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |