Carol and Cadence :: :: University of Virginia Library

The sunshine comes, the sunshine goes;
The land is lightened with the rose:
Yet not a bird I hear that sings.
Why, with all Summer's gracious things,
Should life in middle June
Lack tune?

What is the cause, when heaven and earth
Their bridal feast with sun and mirth,
That in the brake no singing-bird,

No minstrel in the meads is heard?
Nay, says the turtle-dove,
'Tis Love.

Love is the cause why music fails,
That hath no need of nightingales,
Its mysteries to celebrate:
Too full at heart it is to prate
Or with uplifted voice
Rejoice.

Love is the soul of summertime:
The careless courtship of the Prime
May eke with song its easy suit;
But love fulfilled was ever mute:
No need, where each loves each,
For speech.

It can but measure with a kiss
Th'assurance of its proper bliss;
It can but murmur o'er and o'er
Its word of magic, “Evermore!”
Nor fain would have that word
O'erheard.