Six Songs , opus 7

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Along the garden ways just now
    I heard the flowers speak; 
The white rose told me of your brow,
    The red rose of your cheek; 
The lily of your bended head,
    The bindweed of your hair: 
Each looked its loveliest and said
    You were more fair.

I went into the wood anon,
    And heard the wild birds sing 
How sweet you were; they warbled on,
    Piped, trilled the self-same thing. 
Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause,
    The burden did repeat, 
And still began again because
    You were more sweet.

And then I went down to the sea,
    And heard it murmuring too, 
Part of an ancient mystery,
    All made of me and you. 
How many a thousand years ago
    I loved, and you were sweet-- 
Longer I could not stay, and so
    I fled back to your feet.

I cannot tell what you say green leaves,
    I cannot tell what you say :
But I know that there is a spirit in you,
    And a word in you this day.

I cannot tell what you say, rosy rocks,
    I cannot tell what you say :
But I know that there is a spirit in you,
    And a word in you this day.

I cannot tell what you say, brown streams,
    I cannot tell what you say :
But I know that in you too a spirit doth live,
    And a word doth speak this day.

"Oh green is the colour of faith and truth,
And rose the colour of love and youth,
    And brown of the fruitful clay.
Sweet Earth is faithful, and fruitful, and young,
And her bridal day shall come ere long,
And you shall know what the rocks and the streams
    And the whispering woodlands say."

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