XXXIIINow, O now, in this brown landWhere Love did so sweet music makeWe two shall wander, hand in hand,Forbearing for old friendship’ sake,Nor grieve because our love was gayWhich now is ended in this way.A rogue in red and yellow dressIs knocking, knocking at the tree;And all around our lonelinessThe wind is whistling merrily.The leaves—they do not sigh at allWhen the year takes them in the fall.Now, O now, we hear no moreThe vilanelle and roundelay!Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, beforeWe take sad leave at close of day.Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything—The year, the year is gathering.
Now, O now, in this brown landWhere Love did so sweet music makeWe two shall wander, hand in hand,Forbearing for old friendship’ sake,Nor grieve because our love was gayWhich now is ended in this way.A rogue in red and yellow dressIs knocking, knocking at the tree;And all around our lonelinessThe wind is whistling merrily.The leaves—they do not sigh at allWhen the year takes them in the fall.Now, O now, we hear no moreThe vilanelle and roundelay!Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, beforeWe take sad leave at close of day.Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything—The year, the year is gathering.