 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
46
The Banks of Wye
Once more we watch the fields we knew,
Once more the valley fair,
Moonlight, and silence, and the dew
Are dreaming on the air:
Ah, silence! not a curlew's cry
To vex the midnight still,
'Tis only Wye goes moaning by
Beneath the shadowy hill.
Once more the valley fair,
Moonlight, and silence, and the dew
Are dreaming on the air:
Ah, silence! not a curlew's cry
To vex the midnight still,
'Tis only Wye goes moaning by
Beneath the shadowy hill.
Say, is it long ago she smiled
Here, in the birchen wood,
With sweetest eyes that ever child
Wore into womanhood?
And now we watch the hills alone,
And Wye, his banks along,
Must sound, for us, a parting moan;
For her—a bridal song.
Here, in the birchen wood,
With sweetest eyes that ever child
Wore into womanhood?
And now we watch the hills alone,
And Wye, his banks along,
Must sound, for us, a parting moan;
For her—a bridal song.
47
Well, so doth Heaven or fate decide,
And time has willed it so:
Farewell to bridegroom and to bride,
Farewell to long ago!
And years and faces change, and feet
In alien regions range,
And souls may meet, or ne'er may meet,
But one can never change.
And time has willed it so:
Farewell to bridegroom and to bride,
Farewell to long ago!
And years and faces change, and feet
In alien regions range,
And souls may meet, or ne'er may meet,
But one can never change.
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |