Chamber Music

Now, O now, in this brown land
    Where Love did so sweet music make 
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
    Forbearing for old friendship' sake, 
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress
    Is knocking, knocking at the tree; 
And all around our loneliness
    The wind is whistling merrily. 
The leaves -- - they do not sigh at all
When the year takes them in the fall.

Now, O now, we hear no more
    The vilanelle and roundelay! 
Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before
    We take sad leave at close of day. 
Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything -- -
The year, the year is gathering.

Gentle lady, do not sing 
  Sad songs about the end of love; 
Lay aside sadness and sing 
  How love that passes is enough. 

Sing about the long deep sleep 
  Of lovers that are dead, and how 
In the grave all love shall sleep: 
  Love is aweary now.

Dear heart, why will you use me so?
    Dear eyes that gently me upbraid, 
Still are you beautiful -- - but O,
    How is your beauty raimented!

Through the clear mirror of your eyes,
    Through the soft sigh of kiss to kiss, 
Desolate winds assail with cries
    The shadowy garden where love is.

And soon shall love dissolved be
    When over us the wild winds blow -- - 
But you, dear love, too dear to me,
    Alas! why will you use me so?

O cool is the valley now 
  And there, love, will we go 
For many a choir is singing now 
  Where Love did sometime go. 

And hear you not the thrushes calling, 
  Calling us away? 
O cool and pleasant is the valley 
  And there, love, will we stay.

All day I hear the noise of waters
 Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is, when going
 Forth alone,
He hears the [winds]1 cry to the waters'
 Monotone.

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
 Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
 Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them [flowing]2
 To and fro.

I hear an army charging upon the land,
  And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees:
Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand,
  Disdaining the reins, with flutt'ring whips, the charioteers.

They cry unto the night their battlename:
  I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter.
They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame,
  Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil.

They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:
  They come out of the sea and run shouting by the shore.
My heart, have you no wisdom thus to despair?
  My love, my love, why have you left me alone?