 | Weeping-Cross and Other Rimes by A. H. Bullen |  |
38
LIGHT O' LOVE
I loved yon Hawthorn passing well,
So late the pride and crown of May;
“There's naught,” I swore, “that can excel
Hawthorn for scent and rich array:”
Now fickle I
My oaths reny
And vow these starry elder-flowers—
For fragrance rare,
Hue fresh and fair—
Put down all gaudy Hawthorn-bowers.
So late the pride and crown of May;
“There's naught,” I swore, “that can excel
Hawthorn for scent and rich array:”
Now fickle I
My oaths reny
And vow these starry elder-flowers—
For fragrance rare,
Hue fresh and fair—
Put down all gaudy Hawthorn-bowers.
Since I have once falsed faith, I fear
My restless fancy will be ranging
And still, as older grows the year,
Old loves for new I shall be changing:
Soon Eglantine
Her wreaths will twine
And Elder-flowers no more be seen,
Then without shame
I will acclaim
Lush Eglantine the Summer's Queen.
My restless fancy will be ranging
And still, as older grows the year,
Old loves for new I shall be changing:
Soon Eglantine
Her wreaths will twine
And Elder-flowers no more be seen,
Then without shame
I will acclaim
Lush Eglantine the Summer's Queen.
4th June, 1918.
| Weeping-Cross and Other Rimes by A. H. Bullen | |