On Going
(For Willard Johnson)
A GRAVE is all too weak a thingTo hold my fancy long;I’ll bear a blossom with the spring,Or be a blackbird’s song,I think that I shall fade with ease,Melt into earth like snow,Be food for hungry, growing trees,Or help the lilies blow.And if my love should lonely walk,Quite of my nearness fain,I may come back to her, and talkIn liquid words of rain.
A GRAVE is all too weak a thingTo hold my fancy long;I’ll bear a blossom with the spring,Or be a blackbird’s song,I think that I shall fade with ease,Melt into earth like snow,Be food for hungry, growing trees,Or help the lilies blow.And if my love should lonely walk,Quite of my nearness fain,I may come back to her, and talkIn liquid words of rain.
A GRAVE is all too weak a thingTo hold my fancy long;I’ll bear a blossom with the spring,Or be a blackbird’s song,
A GRAVE is all too weak a thing
A GRAVE is all too weak a thing
To hold my fancy long;
I’ll bear a blossom with the spring,
Or be a blackbird’s song,
I think that I shall fade with ease,Melt into earth like snow,Be food for hungry, growing trees,Or help the lilies blow.
I think that I shall fade with ease,
Melt into earth like snow,
Be food for hungry, growing trees,
Or help the lilies blow.
And if my love should lonely walk,Quite of my nearness fain,I may come back to her, and talkIn liquid words of rain.
And if my love should lonely walk,
Quite of my nearness fain,
I may come back to her, and talk
In liquid words of rain.