Hark! how the birds sing sunny songs of spring!
Soon they will build, and work will silence them;
So we grow less light-hearted as years bring
Life's grave responsibilities—and then
The bitter word "Farewell."
The violets fret to fragrance 'neath your feet,
Heaven's gold sunlight dreams aslant your hair:
No flower for me! your mouth is far more sweet.
O, let my lips forget, while lingering there,
Love's bitter word "Farewell."
Sunset already! have we sat so long?
The parting hour, and so much left unsaid!
The garden has grown silent—void of song,
Our sorrow shakes us with a sudden dread!
Ah! bitter word "Farewell."
Olive Custance [1874-
A SONG OF AUTUMN
All through the golden weather
Until the autumn fell,
Our lives went by together
So wildly and so well.
But autumn's wind uncloses
The heart of all your flowers;
I think, as with the roses,
So hath it been with ours.
Like some divided river
Your ways and mine will be,
To drift apart for ever,
For ever till the sea.
And yet for one word spoken,
One whisper of regret,
The dream had not been broken,
And love were with us yet.