 | Here be blue and white violets from the garden wherein grew meadowsweet |  |
UNHEEDED.
With all the words that love could hope to wake
I strove to aid my soul's divine endeavour;
But Ruth would never listen. How I ache
To speak no more again, no more for ever!
I strove to aid my soul's divine endeavour;
But Ruth would never listen. How I ache
To speak no more again, no more for ever!
O saffron tulips in the heart-shaped bed,
Her coldness could not understand my crying;
And now I would (for joy and hope are sped)
That I, ere ye are dead, might lay a-dying!
Her coldness could not understand my crying;
And now I would (for joy and hope are sped)
That I, ere ye are dead, might lay a-dying!
| Here be blue and white violets from the garden wherein grew meadowsweet | |