III.
That grey, last day we said goodbye
Makes winter weather in my heart;
Dull cloud wreaths veiled our summer sky
That grey, last day we said goodbye
And loosed faint love; I wonder why
(For then, in truth, 'twas well to part)
That grey, last day we said goodbye
Makes wintry weather in my heart.
Graham R. Tomson.
TRIOLET.
The roses are dead,
And swallows are flying:
White, golden, and red,
The roses are dead;
Yet tenderly tread
Where their petals are lying.
The roses are dead,
And swallows are flying.
Graham R. Tomson.
REJECTED.
You've spoken of love,
And I've answered with laughter;
You've kissed—my kid glove.
You've spoken of love.
Why! powers above?
Is there more to come after.
You've spoken of love
And I've answered with laughter.
Her lips were so near
That—what else could I do?
You'll be angry, I fear,
Her lips were so near.
Well, I can't make it clear
Or explain it to you.
Her lips were so near
That—what else could I do?