In the voices of morning
There crept a new tone,
A faint whispered warning
From regions unknown,
And over each heart
Stole a mystical fear
That our joy would depart
With the flight of the year.
A pale, cold, new-comer
Had entered our isle,
In the voices of morning
There crept a new tone,
A faint whispered warning
From regions unknown,
And over each heart
Stole a mystical fear
That our joy would depart
With the flight of the year.
A pale, cold, new-comer
Had entered our isle,