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96
Jenny Lind.
NOVEMBER 2ND, 1887.
Never again to see an English Spring!
Never to watch the purple copses burn,
The gold gay-hearted daffodil return!
Never to hear the lark above me sing
And climbing up his stair ring after ring,
Send consolation earthwards! how I yearn
But once, once more, to find the bracken fern
Lifting to fragrant light its fairy wing!
Never to watch the purple copses burn,
The gold gay-hearted daffodil return!
Never to hear the lark above me sing
And climbing up his stair ring after ring,
Send consolation earthwards! how I yearn
But once, once more, to find the bracken fern
Lifting to fragrant light its fairy wing!
The Malvern valleys, mist-enshrouded, wait,
The Malvern hills are shuddering into snow,
But thou clear-throated angel-heart of Dawn,
Thou standest now within the happier gate
Whence all the springs with life and love shall flow,
To thrill the nightingale and flush the lawn.
The Malvern hills are shuddering into snow,
But thou clear-throated angel-heart of Dawn,
Thou standest now within the happier gate
Whence all the springs with life and love shall flow,
To thrill the nightingale and flush the lawn.
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