AND will you sing the songs anew, The songs you made for me, When, in the sunrise and the dew, The earth seemed made so fair, for you To turn to melody? And will you seek the flowers again You gathered in the spring, Sweet flowers, fragrant with the rain Of tears you will not weep again, In all your gathering? Ah no, the morning songs are sung, And Time treads on apace, High overhead the sun is hung, While in its heat your life is swung, God grant you fullest grace: And tuneful ear to string your lute To every season's range, Until your lips are cold and mute, Till song and blossom bear their fruit In the great changeless change. But when the last full numbers break, The songs you made for me Shall stir, as when the birds awake, And in your heart sweet singing make, Of morning memory. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 7 by EZRA POUND SONNET: 10 by RICHARD BARNFIELD CATHERINE TO GREGORY, THE POPE by MARY KATE BLAND JIM'S WHIP by BARCROFT HENRY BOAKE THE WORK THAT SAVES by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR LITTLE PATH by MARTHA MARDEN BRIGGS ST. PAUL'S CHRISTMAS BELLS by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB EPIGRAM TO DON ANTONIO, KING OF PORTUGAL by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |