Echoes

Song Cycle by Landon Ronald, Sir (1873 - 1938)

Word count: 404

?. The nightingale has a lyre of gold [sung text not yet checked]

The nightingale has a lyre of gold,
   The lark's is a clarion call,
And the blackbird plays but a boxwood flute,
   But I love him best of all.

For his song is all of the joy of life,
   And we in the [mad]1, spring weather,
We two have listened till he [sang]2
   Our hearts and lips together.

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1 Parker: "glad"
2 Parker: "sung"

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

?. We'll go no more a-roving [sung text not yet checked]

We'll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
November glooms are barren beside the dusk of June.
The summer flowers are faded, the summer thoughts are sere.
We'll go no more a-roving, lest worse befall, my dear.

We'll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
The song we sang rings hollow, and heavy runs the tune.
Glad ways and words remembered would shame the wretched year.
We'll go no more a-roving, nor dream we did, my dear.

We'll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
If yet we walk together, we need not shun the noon.
No sweet thing left to savour, no sad thing left to fear,
We'll go no more a-roving, but weep at home, my dear.

Authorship

See also Byron's "So, we'll go no more a roving".

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

?. The spring, my dear [sung text not yet checked]

The spring, my dear,
Is no longer spring.
Does the blackbird sing
What he sang last year?
Are the skies the old
Immemorial blue?
Or am I, or are you,
Grown cold?

Though life be change,
It is hard to bear
When the old sweet air
Sounds forced and strange.
To be out of tune,
Plain You and I . . .
It were better to die,
And soon!

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

?. Your heart has trembled [sung text not yet checked]

Your heart has trembled to my tongue,
Your hands in mine have lain,
Your thought to me has leaned and clung,
Again and yet again,
My dear,
Again and yet again.

Now die the dream, or come the wife,
The past is not in vain,
For wholly as it was your life
Can never be again,
My dear,
Can never be again.

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

?. Bring her again, o western wind [sung text not yet checked]

Bring her again, O western wind,
Over the western sea:
Gentle and good and fair and kind,
Bring her again to me!

Not that her fancy holds me dear,
Not that a hope may be:
Only that I may know her near,
Wind of the western sea.

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?. Dedication [sung text not yet checked]

Take, dear, my little sheaf of songs,
For, old or new,
All that is good in them belongs
Only to you;

And, singing as when all was young,
They will recall
Those others, lived but left unsung --
The bent of all.

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]