The long brown furrows between;
So lately my heart was singing
With the birds that began to build,
With jubilant hope was ringing,
With jubilant love was filled!
So lately my heart was singing
With the birds that began to build,
With jubilant hope was ringing,
With jubilant love was filled!
Now I cry out in my sorrow,
And no one answers my moan;
To-morrow will come, and to-morrow
Find me and leave me alone.
There's never a spring at whose waking
My pulses will thrill as before;
Shall a heart sing that is breaking?
Were it blessed, it could scarcely do more!
And no one answers my moan;
To-morrow will come, and to-morrow
Find me and leave me alone.
There's never a spring at whose waking
My pulses will thrill as before;
Shall a heart sing that is breaking?
Were it blessed, it could scarcely do more!
XXXVIIA SONG (2)
'Tis not the murmuring voice of Spring
That stirs my heart and makes me sing;
'Tis not the blue skies, bubbling o'er
With sunshine spilled along earth's floor;
Nor yet the flush of bursting rose,
Nor bloom of any flower that grows.
That stirs my heart and makes me sing;
'Tis not the blue skies, bubbling o'er
With sunshine spilled along earth's floor;
Nor yet the flush of bursting rose,
Nor bloom of any flower that grows.
It is that long, long time ago,
When all the world was blushing so—
It is that then my cheek blushed too,
My heart beat fast for love and you:
There was a music in the air
I fail to find now anywhere.
When all the world was blushing so—
It is that then my cheek blushed too,
My heart beat fast for love and you:
There was a music in the air
I fail to find now anywhere.
And so, when Spring comes wandering by,
I lose the thread of misery;
Trusting the promise of her days,
I lose the thread of misery;
Trusting the promise of her days,
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