SONG OF SONGS
Myheart is like a shady groveThat harbors, for a June,My thoughts, like song-birds mad with loveUnder the moon.On all the windy boughs they sitAnd in the blowinggrass—But one bird silently enters it,And sings, alas!Then all the rest grow sad and stillThat made a happy noise:There is no sound on all the hillBut that one voice,Faint with the memories in hisbreast—It is the thought ofyou—And when it ceases, all the restAre silent, too.
Myheart is like a shady groveThat harbors, for a June,My thoughts, like song-birds mad with loveUnder the moon.On all the windy boughs they sitAnd in the blowinggrass—But one bird silently enters it,And sings, alas!Then all the rest grow sad and stillThat made a happy noise:There is no sound on all the hillBut that one voice,Faint with the memories in hisbreast—It is the thought ofyou—And when it ceases, all the restAre silent, too.
Myheart is like a shady groveThat harbors, for a June,My thoughts, like song-birds mad with loveUnder the moon.
Myheart is like a shady grove
That harbors, for a June,
My thoughts, like song-birds mad with love
Under the moon.
On all the windy boughs they sitAnd in the blowinggrass—But one bird silently enters it,And sings, alas!
On all the windy boughs they sit
And in the blowinggrass—
But one bird silently enters it,
And sings, alas!
Then all the rest grow sad and stillThat made a happy noise:There is no sound on all the hillBut that one voice,
Then all the rest grow sad and still
That made a happy noise:
There is no sound on all the hill
But that one voice,
Faint with the memories in hisbreast—It is the thought ofyou—And when it ceases, all the restAre silent, too.
Faint with the memories in hisbreast—
It is the thought ofyou—
And when it ceases, all the rest
Are silent, too.