 |
| I. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
My Sweet Woodruff.
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| II. |
|
| I. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| VII. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| X. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| 15. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
|
 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
132
My Sweet Woodruff.
No more the flowers of spring are seen,
And silence fills the summer noon;
The woods have lost the fresh bright green
Of May and June.
And silence fills the summer noon;
The woods have lost the fresh bright green
Of May and June.
But yesterday I found a flower,
Deep sheltered from the withering rays,
Which might have known the sun and shower
Of April days.
Deep sheltered from the withering rays,
Which might have known the sun and shower
Of April days.
I did not think again to find
Such tender relic of the spring;
It thrilled such gladness through my mind,
I needs must sing.
Such tender relic of the spring;
It thrilled such gladness through my mind,
I needs must sing.
My girlhood's spring has passed for aye,
With many a fairy tint and tone;
The heat and burden of the day
Are better known.
With many a fairy tint and tone;
The heat and burden of the day
Are better known.
But by my summer path has sprung
A flower of happy love, as fair
As e'er a subtle fragrance flung
On spring's clear air.
A flower of happy love, as fair
As e'er a subtle fragrance flung
On spring's clear air.
I hardly thought to feel again
Such dewy freshness in my heart,
And so one little loving strain
Must upward start.
Such dewy freshness in my heart,
And so one little loving strain
Must upward start.
133
There was spring-sunshine in my eyes,
I had such joy in finding you
So full of all I love and prize,
So dear and true.
I had such joy in finding you
So full of all I love and prize,
So dear and true.
My heart is richer far to-day
Than when I came a week ago;
How near to me such treasure lay
I did not know!
Than when I came a week ago;
How near to me such treasure lay
I did not know!
The long parenthesis is o'er,
And now, in letters all of light,
The story of our love once more
We both may write.
And now, in letters all of light,
The story of our love once more
We both may write.
I have no words to breathe the praise
Which now for this ‘good gift’ I owe;
A wordless anthem I must raise,
But HE will know.
Which now for this ‘good gift’ I owe;
A wordless anthem I must raise,
But HE will know.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |