ARTHUR J. STRINGER
O LOVE, can the tree lure the summer birdAgain to the bough where it used to sing,When never a throat in the autumn is heard,And never the glint of a vagrant wing?Love, Love, can the lute lure the old-time touchUnto fingers forgetful of melody?And we, who have loved for a time overmuch,Bring back the old life as it used to be?Nay, though there is little in me to love,Come back as the bird to a songless bough:Back now as you came when the blue was above,And summer gleamed soft on your girlish brow.Come home, O Heart, for the autumn is grey,And I, who have looked for your coming so long,En-isled in your arms, in the old lost wayShall dream our December estranged by a song.So come, Vernal-Heart, now summer is flown;Let autumn elude the return of the rime,And the sad sea change with the season alone:Not us who have loved—loved well in our time.Shall summer not know the autumnal touch?Shall love when forlorn of the spring be green?Or we, who were lovers of old overmuch,Regain what is lost, or relume what has been?
O LOVE, can the tree lure the summer birdAgain to the bough where it used to sing,When never a throat in the autumn is heard,And never the glint of a vagrant wing?Love, Love, can the lute lure the old-time touchUnto fingers forgetful of melody?And we, who have loved for a time overmuch,Bring back the old life as it used to be?Nay, though there is little in me to love,Come back as the bird to a songless bough:Back now as you came when the blue was above,And summer gleamed soft on your girlish brow.Come home, O Heart, for the autumn is grey,And I, who have looked for your coming so long,En-isled in your arms, in the old lost wayShall dream our December estranged by a song.So come, Vernal-Heart, now summer is flown;Let autumn elude the return of the rime,And the sad sea change with the season alone:Not us who have loved—loved well in our time.Shall summer not know the autumnal touch?Shall love when forlorn of the spring be green?Or we, who were lovers of old overmuch,Regain what is lost, or relume what has been?
O LOVE, can the tree lure the summer birdAgain to the bough where it used to sing,When never a throat in the autumn is heard,And never the glint of a vagrant wing?
O LOVE, can the tree lure the summer bird
Again to the bough where it used to sing,
When never a throat in the autumn is heard,
And never the glint of a vagrant wing?
Love, Love, can the lute lure the old-time touchUnto fingers forgetful of melody?And we, who have loved for a time overmuch,Bring back the old life as it used to be?
Love, Love, can the lute lure the old-time touch
Unto fingers forgetful of melody?
And we, who have loved for a time overmuch,
Bring back the old life as it used to be?
Nay, though there is little in me to love,Come back as the bird to a songless bough:Back now as you came when the blue was above,And summer gleamed soft on your girlish brow.
Nay, though there is little in me to love,
Come back as the bird to a songless bough:
Back now as you came when the blue was above,
And summer gleamed soft on your girlish brow.
Come home, O Heart, for the autumn is grey,And I, who have looked for your coming so long,En-isled in your arms, in the old lost wayShall dream our December estranged by a song.
Come home, O Heart, for the autumn is grey,
And I, who have looked for your coming so long,
En-isled in your arms, in the old lost way
Shall dream our December estranged by a song.
So come, Vernal-Heart, now summer is flown;Let autumn elude the return of the rime,And the sad sea change with the season alone:Not us who have loved—loved well in our time.Shall summer not know the autumnal touch?Shall love when forlorn of the spring be green?Or we, who were lovers of old overmuch,Regain what is lost, or relume what has been?
So come, Vernal-Heart, now summer is flown;
Let autumn elude the return of the rime,
And the sad sea change with the season alone:
Not us who have loved—loved well in our time.
Shall summer not know the autumnal touch?
Shall love when forlorn of the spring be green?
Or we, who were lovers of old overmuch,
Regain what is lost, or relume what has been?