 | Poems
|  |
|
[When the laburnum droops its golden rain]
When the laburnum droops its golden rain,
And lilacs flush with gladness all our ways,
When red and white-hued hawthorns scent our days,
For you in thought we shall not look in vain;
With the dear May-time you shall come again.
Violets shall whisper of you—daisies raise
Your forms, dear friends, your faces to our gaze,
As when we saw together field and lane,
And laugh'd aloud in gladness at the Spring.
Come, let us please us with the dear-loved thought
That thrushes of you, friends, shall ever sing,
That by the larks' your voices shall be brought,
That, when each hedge and bough with twitters ring,
From each sweet sound, your dear tones shall be caught.
| Poems
| |
|
