AUTUMN MESSAGES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913)

I.

The flowers that as they fade fling parting kisses tender
From valley and hill and lea
Towards Autumn, know that Spring will mark fresh blossoms' splendour;
But when Spring comes, love, I shall not have thee.

II.

The blue waves now along September gold shores surging
Will change to an angry sea;
But when the next Spring's ocean smiles, divine and virgin,
It will not smile on thee.

III.

Thou art gone! thou art gone! thou art gone!—And I, I may not follow!
When with swift wings and glee
Returns to England's shores the now-departing swallow,
God will not let my heart return to thee.

IV.

Of all the autumn words methinks this is the saddest:
To know that love must flee;
That one more love of mine, most sweet though it be the maddest,
Hath no more part in me.

V.

The blossoms die. But then the new Spring brings their beauty
Again for our eyes to see:
But when love falls stricken down by Time, his helpless booty,
What blooms again? Oh, love, no flower of thee!

VI.

The swift years pass. But then new years bring tidings sweeter,
Delights undreamed,—and we
Sing to the Spring's soft lips and hasten fast to meet her;
But ah!—not to meet thee.

VII.

To-day I feel as if my years of labour and singing
Were just one fruitless tree.
No song is worth its pang, no gift is worth the bringing;
For all my songs will never bring back thee.

VIII.

Not all the songs of Spring, nor Spring's own song, the fairest
Of all the songs that be,
Shall ever ring the same,—since thou no longer carest
That I should care for thee!

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