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Poems and Translations

by W. J. Linton

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57

SPRING AND AUTUMN.

Thou wilt forget me.” “Love has no such word.”
The soft Spring wind is whispering to the trees.
Among lime-blossoms have the hovering bees
Those whispers heard?
“Or thou wilt change.” “Love changeth not:” he said.
The purple heather cloys the air with scent
Of honey. O'er the moors her lover went,
Nor turn'd his head.