WORDS AFTER MUSIC.
Where go all the melodies fair,They that flow and fade in air?Was their beauty all foredone?(Ah, no—no!)Pulse and cadence truth did tell,Vowed to music’s magic spell,Passionate and ineffable.Where do all the roses go,They that die before the snow?Was their beauty all forsworn?(Ah, no—no!)Flush and odor vowed aright,When they promised rare delight,Perennial and exquisite.Fragile flowers and melodiesClaim a dual paradise,Beauty is not feof to death;(Ah, no—no!)Beauty lives in essence free,In the inner heart we seeBeauty’s immortality.
Where go all the melodies fair,They that flow and fade in air?Was their beauty all foredone?(Ah, no—no!)Pulse and cadence truth did tell,Vowed to music’s magic spell,Passionate and ineffable.Where do all the roses go,They that die before the snow?Was their beauty all forsworn?(Ah, no—no!)Flush and odor vowed aright,When they promised rare delight,Perennial and exquisite.Fragile flowers and melodiesClaim a dual paradise,Beauty is not feof to death;(Ah, no—no!)Beauty lives in essence free,In the inner heart we seeBeauty’s immortality.
Where go all the melodies fair,They that flow and fade in air?Was their beauty all foredone?(Ah, no—no!)Pulse and cadence truth did tell,Vowed to music’s magic spell,Passionate and ineffable.
Where go all the melodies fair,
They that flow and fade in air?
Was their beauty all foredone?
(Ah, no—no!)
Pulse and cadence truth did tell,
Vowed to music’s magic spell,
Passionate and ineffable.
Where do all the roses go,They that die before the snow?Was their beauty all forsworn?(Ah, no—no!)Flush and odor vowed aright,When they promised rare delight,Perennial and exquisite.
Where do all the roses go,
They that die before the snow?
Was their beauty all forsworn?
(Ah, no—no!)
Flush and odor vowed aright,
When they promised rare delight,
Perennial and exquisite.
Fragile flowers and melodiesClaim a dual paradise,Beauty is not feof to death;(Ah, no—no!)Beauty lives in essence free,In the inner heart we seeBeauty’s immortality.
Fragile flowers and melodies
Claim a dual paradise,
Beauty is not feof to death;
(Ah, no—no!)
Beauty lives in essence free,
In the inner heart we see
Beauty’s immortality.
THIS BOOK IS PRINTED DURING OCTOBER 1898 BY THE UNIVERSITY PRESS CAMBRIDGE MASSACHUSETTS