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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - Song Of The Desert Lark
Work rating: Low

Love, love, in vain
 We count the days of Spring.
 Lost is all love`s pain,
 Lost the songs we sing.
 Sunshine and Summer rain,
 Winter and Spring again
 Still the years shall bring,
 But we die.

 Love, what a noon
 Of happy love was ours!
 Grief came too soon,
 Touched the Autumn flowers,
 Grief and the doubt of death,
 Mixed with the roses` breath.
 Darkly the Winter lowers,
 And we die.

 His torch, love, the Sun
 Turns to the stormy West,
 Like a fair dream begun
 Changing to jest.
 Love, while our souls are one,
 Still let us sing the Sun,
 Sing and forget the rest
 And so die.
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