"THERE'S ROSEMARY—THAT'S FOR REMEMBRANCE?"
Low in the west to crimson turning,
The sun like a jewel set in gold
Over the breast of the twilight burning,
Fastens its mantle fold on fold;
The sea like a maiden's face is glowing,
The sweet south wind is merrily blowing,
Still am I sad, for summer is going,—
Summer is going,—summer is gone!
The sun like a jewel set in gold
Over the breast of the twilight burning,
Fastens its mantle fold on fold;
The sea like a maiden's face is glowing,
The sweet south wind is merrily blowing,
Still am I sad, for summer is going,—
Summer is going,—summer is gone!
Never a leaf on the tree is faded,
Never a blade of the grass is sere,
Gayer and brighter the flowers are shaded,
Fairer and fairer grows the year;
Only—who knows what my fancy is showing—
Only the roses no longer are growing,
Only I feel that the summer is going,—
Summer is going,—summer is gone!
Never a blade of the grass is sere,
Gayer and brighter the flowers are shaded,
Fairer and fairer grows the year;
Only—who knows what my fancy is showing—
Only the roses no longer are growing,
Only I feel that the summer is going,—
Summer is going,—summer is gone!
Brighter and brighter the skies are shining,
Deeper and deeper the fresh air thrills,
Deeper and deeper the fresh air thrills,
