 | The wind in the trees |  |
48
A LOST GARDEN
The cuckoo's note is nearly over,
The jocund voice and dear,
I shall not hear him call, bright rover,
Next year.
The jocund voice and dear,
I shall not hear him call, bright rover,
Next year.
The little lilies, gold and sunny,
And flecked with scarlet stain,
I shall not smell their musk and honey
Again.
And flecked with scarlet stain,
I shall not smell their musk and honey
Again.
Gold roses in the garden growing,
Red roses, damask, dear,
I shall not watch the roses blowing
Next year.
Red roses, damask, dear,
I shall not watch the roses blowing
Next year.
49
I shall not hear the birds outpouring
Love's rapture and its pain,
Nor see the singing lark and soaring,
Again.
Love's rapture and its pain,
Nor see the singing lark and soaring,
Again.
O garden of my dreams, keep ever
My sacred dreams and dear,
But I shall come again, ah, never,
Next year.
My sacred dreams and dear,
But I shall come again, ah, never,
Next year.
| The wind in the trees | |