And this Death's sting
To be a nightingale
That cannot sing.
Where falls the rain of evil, poison breeds;
Darkness in the land.
The trees are bent and twisted by the winds,
The grass is brown and blighted by the rain;
Goddess,
Will you not bring your light?
With graceful character of curve and sweep;
Unchangeable the words for all your cries,
In vain you weep. No tears they drink;
Your tears shall never wash one word away,
Nor e'er dilute the blackness of the ink.
Of frost clutching at the throat,
Chilly, but seeming to be warm
In warm October sun.
Give me autumn here,
And keep your sunny summer.
And the willow ceased to weep,
When all the gnats and crawling things
Settled down to sleep;
When sunshine warmed us every day,
When rain our joy enhanced,
When storm and hail to love gave strength,
When lightning danced;
Then bloomed the rose of brighter hue,
Then sparkled water in the sun;
Then came no snow,
The world was fresh begun.
In the valley where the lilac blooms,
Where the trees cast shade on young love,
Where we sat and talked, and spent our days
Far from the world, far from the town
Of rushing, hurrying minds, narrow and sharp;
There we were alone, and never lonely.
The oak stands firm in the forest of green,
The stream flows swift in chattering laughter,
Others will come and see, and after
They have seen, then others;
Take two, and two, and two again,
Place them there;
They change; yet
There are always two -
Shades, warm dreams, but always there.
They will hear nothing, want to hear nothing
But their own voices; for the song we sang
Only echoes when there is emptiness.