 | Love's memorial |  |
[These songs, vain strays of idle hours]
These songs, vain strays of idle hours,
Were born not under sun or showers,
But where your feet had passed they grew,
Or sour or sweet, or weeds or flowers.
Were born not under sun or showers,
But where your feet had passed they grew,
Or sour or sweet, or weeds or flowers.
Your voice to them as May-winds blew,
Your footsteps gave them rain and dew,
Your face was light to them; their skies
Beneath your lids were gold and blue.
Your footsteps gave them rain and dew,
Your face was light to them; their skies
Beneath your lids were gold and blue.
Take from my hand what in me lies
To give; when Autumn winds arise,
Small harm to these will tempests do,
So they find favour in your eyes.
To give; when Autumn winds arise,
Small harm to these will tempests do,
So they find favour in your eyes.
| Love's memorial | |