 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
164
NO MORE!
I.
My heart is in the yellow leaf,I feel that spring of life no more,
That once, when all my hours were brief,
Could every blessed hour restore:
Could bring to life each perished joy,
And still recall, with morning hours,
The evening rapture—sweet but coy—
That waved my fancy on with flowers!—
That waves me on no more—no more!
II.
Oh! very sad to memory's heart,The mournful truth that all is o'er:
That all the precious things depart,
Still murmuring—though we plead—“No more!”
Our bird, whose gay beguiling song
Still won our way through Love's domain;
And all that countless, wooing throng,
That we shall never woo again—
That woo and wave us on no more!
III.
Oh! words that strike with icy thrill,That chide us with defrauded hours;
That rob us of our moonlight still,
The charm of song, the sweet of flowers;
Our faith in fancy; all that glows,
For boyhood's day, and nightly dreams;
His shadows crowning for repose;
His love, that most immortal seems;
Dreams, love, that woo and charm—no more!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |