 | Brother Fabian's Manuscript |  |
198
ABSENCE.
Fade, thou twisted briony,
Still upon the white-thorn tree!
Fall, ye berries red and gold!
Fall and blacken in the bracken,
Fade and fall!—The year is old.
Still upon the white-thorn tree!
Fall, ye berries red and gold!
Fall and blacken in the bracken,
Fade and fall!—The year is old.
Never cometh She to wear
Wreaths of thine among her hair,
While we watch the autumnal gales
Blow the shadows o'er the meadows,
Dimming half the distant dales.
Wreaths of thine among her hair,
While we watch the autumnal gales
Blow the shadows o'er the meadows,
Dimming half the distant dales.
| Brother Fabian's Manuscript | |