  WHEN Spring comes laughing By vale and hill, By wind-flower walking Sing stars of morning, Sing morning skies, Sing blue of Speedwell,— And my Love’s eyes. When comes the Summer, Full-leaved and strong, And gay birds gossip The orchard long,— Sing hid, sweet honey That no bee sips; Sing red, red roses,— And my love’s lips. When Autumn scatters The leaves again, And piled sheaves bury The broad-wheeled wain,— Sing flutes of harvest Where men rejoice; Sing rounds of reapers,— And my Love’s voice. But when comes winter With hail and storm, And red fire roaring And ingle warm,— Sing first sad going Of friends that part; Then sing glad meeting,— And my Love’s heart. Austin Dobson. |
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