 | Songs of the sea, with other poems |  |
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THE SPRING-TIME WILL RETURN.
The birds are mute, the bloom is fled,
Cold, cold the north winds blow;
And radiant Summer lieth dead
Beneath a shroud of snow.
Sweet Summer! well may we regret
Thy brief, too brief sojourn;
But, while we grieve, we'll not forget,
The Spring-time will return!
Cold, cold the north winds blow;
And radiant Summer lieth dead
Beneath a shroud of snow.
Sweet Summer! well may we regret
Thy brief, too brief sojourn;
But, while we grieve, we'll not forget,
The Spring-time will return!
Dear friend, the hills rise bare and bleak
That bound thy future years;
Clouds veil the sky, no golden streak,
No rainbow light appears;
Mischance has tracked thy fairest schemes,
To wreck—to whelm—to burn;
But wintry-dark though Fortune seems,
The Spring-time will return!
That bound thy future years;
Clouds veil the sky, no golden streak,
No rainbow light appears;
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To wreck—to whelm—to burn;
But wintry-dark though Fortune seems,
The Spring-time will return!
Beloved one! where no sunbeams shine
Thy mortal frame we laid;
But O, thy spirit's form divine
Waits no sepulchral shade!
No, by those hopes which, plumed with light,
The sod, exulting, spurn,
Love's paradise shall bloom more bright—
The Spring-time will return!
Thy mortal frame we laid;
But O, thy spirit's form divine
Waits no sepulchral shade!
No, by those hopes which, plumed with light,
The sod, exulting, spurn,
Love's paradise shall bloom more bright—
The Spring-time will return!
| Songs of the sea, with other poems | |