A SONG.
TO B. W. B.
TO B. W. B.
TO B. W. B.
TO B. W. B.
The world is spinning for change,And life has rapid wings;Oh, one needs a steady heartNot to falter while he sings.But this is made for my Dear OneWhen we are far apart;That she may have wherever she goesA song of mine in her heart.A song that will move with a memoryOf something she loves best;A song that will throb at her waking,A song that will lull her to rest.A song that will serve for an anchor,Compass, and pilot, and chart;A song that will bid her rememberThat love is the crown of art.A song that will bid her rememberThe north nights cool and still,With the thrushes fluting deep, deep,Deep on the pine-wood hill,With a star at her open window,When the cuckoo wakes with a start:Oh! can she ever forget meWith a song of mine in her heart?
The world is spinning for change,And life has rapid wings;Oh, one needs a steady heartNot to falter while he sings.But this is made for my Dear OneWhen we are far apart;That she may have wherever she goesA song of mine in her heart.A song that will move with a memoryOf something she loves best;A song that will throb at her waking,A song that will lull her to rest.A song that will serve for an anchor,Compass, and pilot, and chart;A song that will bid her rememberThat love is the crown of art.A song that will bid her rememberThe north nights cool and still,With the thrushes fluting deep, deep,Deep on the pine-wood hill,With a star at her open window,When the cuckoo wakes with a start:Oh! can she ever forget meWith a song of mine in her heart?
The world is spinning for change,And life has rapid wings;Oh, one needs a steady heartNot to falter while he sings.
The world is spinning for change,
And life has rapid wings;
Oh, one needs a steady heart
Not to falter while he sings.
But this is made for my Dear OneWhen we are far apart;That she may have wherever she goesA song of mine in her heart.
But this is made for my Dear One
When we are far apart;
That she may have wherever she goes
A song of mine in her heart.
A song that will move with a memoryOf something she loves best;A song that will throb at her waking,A song that will lull her to rest.
A song that will move with a memory
Of something she loves best;
A song that will throb at her waking,
A song that will lull her to rest.
A song that will serve for an anchor,Compass, and pilot, and chart;A song that will bid her rememberThat love is the crown of art.
A song that will serve for an anchor,
Compass, and pilot, and chart;
A song that will bid her remember
That love is the crown of art.
A song that will bid her rememberThe north nights cool and still,With the thrushes fluting deep, deep,Deep on the pine-wood hill,
A song that will bid her remember
The north nights cool and still,
With the thrushes fluting deep, deep,
Deep on the pine-wood hill,
With a star at her open window,When the cuckoo wakes with a start:Oh! can she ever forget meWith a song of mine in her heart?
With a star at her open window,
When the cuckoo wakes with a start:
Oh! can she ever forget me
With a song of mine in her heart?