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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - Love In The Summer Hills
Work rating: Low

Love in the summer hills,
 With youth to mock at ills,
 And kisses sweet to cheat
 Our idle tears away.
 What else has Time in store,
 Till Life shall close the door?
 Still let me sing love`s lore,
 Come sorrow when it may.

 Rain on the weeping hills,
 With Death to end our ills,
 And only thought unsought
 To point our joys` decay.
 Oh Life is wounded sore
 And Grief`s mad waters roar.
 Yet will I love once more
 To--day as yesterday.
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