Now the fields are brown and barren,
Bitter autumn blows,
And of all the stupid asters
Not one knows.
When Love Goes
I
O mother, I am sick of love,
I cannot laugh nor lift my head,
My bitter dreams have broken me,
I would my love were dead.
"Drink of the draught I brew for thee,
Thou shalt have quiet in its stead."
II
Where is the silver in the rain,
Where is the music in the sea,
Where is the bird that sang all day
To break my heart with melody?
"The night thou badst Love fly away,
He hid them all from thee."
The Wayfarer
Love entered in my heart one day,
A sad, unwelcome guest;
But when he begged that he might stay,
I let him wait and rest.