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250 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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SONG
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AS summer come without the rose, Or left the bird behind ? Is the blue changed above thee, O world ! or am I blind ? Will you change every flower that grows,
Or only change this spot, Where she who said, I love thee, Now says, I love thee not ?
The skies seemed true above thee,
The rose true on the tree; The bird seemed true the summer through,
But all proved false to me. World ! is there one good thing in you,
Life, love, or death—or what ? Since lips that sang, I love thee,
Have said, I love thee not?
I think the sun's kiss will scarce fall
Into one flower's gold cup; I think the bird will miss me,
And give the summer up. O sweet place ! desolate in tall
Wild grass, have you forgot How her lips loved to kiss me,
Now that they kiss me not ?
Be false or fair above me,
Come back with any face, Summer !—do I care what you do ?
You cannot change one place — |
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