Songs of sadness

I so liked Spring last year because you were here;
The thrushes too last year
Because it was those you so liked to hear;
I so liked you.

This year’s a different thing,
I’ll not think of you.
But I’ll like Spring
Because it’s simply Spring
As the thrushes do.

Love love to-day, my dear
Love is not always here
Wise maids know how soon grows sere
The greenest leaf of Spring.
But no man knoweth
Whither it goeth
When the wind bloweth
So frail a thing.
 
Love love, my dear, to-day
If the ship’s in the bay
If the bird has come your way
That sings on summer trees.
When his song faileth
And the ship saileth
No voice availeth
To call back these.