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Edith Nesbit - Song II
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A MONTH of green and tender May, 
    All woods and walks awake with flowers, 
Wide sunlit meadows for the day, 
    And moon-bathed paths for evening hours; 
A bright brief dream that had no past, 
    And of the future knew no fear; 
A kiss at first, a sigh at last-- 
            Only last year. 


Another spring, dim soulless woods; 
    No farewell kiss, no parting tear; 
No stone to mark where silence broods 
    O`er the dead love we found so dear. 
But, oh, to me the green seems grey, 
    The budding branches all are sere, 
For sweet love`s sake, that died one day, 
            Only last year.
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