 | Poems |  |
130
(8)
“THOU ART GOING.”
Thou art going, thou art going,
Laughing Summer with thy train
Of sweet flowers, no longer glowing,
Nature woos thy stay in vain.
Thou art going, thou art going,
All things mourn thy brightness flown,
And the river in its flowing,
Murmurs with a sadden'd tone.
Laughing Summer with thy train
Of sweet flowers, no longer glowing,
Nature woos thy stay in vain.
Thou art going, thou art going,
All things mourn thy brightness flown,
And the river in its flowing,
Murmurs with a sadden'd tone.
131
Thou art going, thou art going,
On the balmy breeze no more,
Float rich scents of thy bestowing,—
Bloom and perfume both are o'er.
Thou art going, thou art going,
In some sunnier land to dwell,
Where no harsh, cold winds are blowing—
Laughing Summer, fare-thee-well!
On the balmy breeze no more,
Float rich scents of thy bestowing,—
Bloom and perfume both are o'er.
Thou art going, thou art going,
In some sunnier land to dwell,
Where no harsh, cold winds are blowing—
Laughing Summer, fare-thee-well!
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