Wild and fleeting as the notes
Blown upon a woodland pipe, 30
They must haunt the earth with gladness
And a tinge of old regret.
For the transport in their rhythm
Was the throb of thy desire,
And thy lyric moods shall quicken 35
Souls of lovers yet unborn.
When the golden days arrive,
With the swallow at the eaves,
And the first sob of the south-wind
Sighing at the latch with spring, 40
Long hereafter shall thy name
Be recalled through foreign lands,
And thou be a part of sorrow
When the Linus songs are sung.
PRINTED AT THE DE LA MORE PRESS 32 GEORGE STREET HANOVER SQUARE LONDON W
[Illustration: The King’s Classics]
CHATTO AND WINDUS
111 St. Martin’s Lane, London