BONNY birds, bonny birds,
Wherefore are ye singing?
Know ye not, care ye not
That the wild-wood, ringing
With your songs, joyous songs,
Autumn’s shroud is weaving?
Better far, better far,
Were ye silent grieving.

Sunbeam bright, Sunbeam bright,
Why through brown boughs peeping?
Know ye not; heed ye not,
That the flowers are sleeping?
Northern blasts, wintry blasts,
Pitilessly brake them.
Ye are come all too late,
Ever more to wake them.

Early dreams, Early dreams
Through dim heart-aisles flaunting;
Come not now, come not now,
Ruined temples haunting.
Waken not, waken not,
Hopes, that but deceive me,
Once so dear. Ay! so dear!
Now ye only grieve me.