SPRING
A Question, and an Answer
Will all the year be summer-time,
And each night have a moon?
Ah no, the Spring will quickly go,
And winter cometh soon.
And will your clasp warm mine like wine?
And will you love me true?
Ah no, the autumn leaves arrive,
And we must bid adieu.
"That's a rather pretty thing, in its way, isn't it?" she said.
"Very."
"Here's one more.
A REMEMBRANCE
Seems it well to see
A wild honey bee
Gold in the sun,
Ere day is done,
Sitting on a rose,
As the summer time grows.
Ah, the bold, brave days,
Ere the glass of Time
'Neath the sun's rays,
Like a flame of fire,—
And the ..."