 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
SONG.
Love laid down his golden head
On his mother's knee;
‘The world runs round so fast,’ he said,
‘None has time for me.’
On his mother's knee;
‘The world runs round so fast,’ he said,
‘None has time for me.’
Thought, a sage unhonoured, turned
From the on-rushing crew;
Song her starry legend spurned;
Art her glass down threw.
From the on-rushing crew;
Song her starry legend spurned;
Art her glass down threw.
Roll on, blind world, upon thy track
Until thy wheels catch fire!
For that is gone which comes not back
To seller nor to buyer!
Until thy wheels catch fire!
For that is gone which comes not back
To seller nor to buyer!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |