Oh, green, glossy leaves, how they quivered and sighed,
In wild dreams of the wonderful night—
When the moon like a silvery barge on the tide,
Dashed her prow through the lilies of light,
And the lass and her lover, at trysting beneath,
Twined their beautiful love with a mingling of breath,
And were part of the wonderful night.
In wild dreams of the wonderful night—
When the moon like a silvery barge on the tide,
Dashed her prow through the lilies of light,
And the lass and her lover, at trysting beneath,
Twined their beautiful love with a mingling of breath,
And were part of the wonderful night.
Alas for the leaves ! dipped in dyes of the morn—
Crimson-plashed in the life of the year—
Oh! their clustering grace is dishevelled and torn,
And they scatter, distracted with fear:
And no haunt is too meek for their wearisome quest,
As they drift on forever in dreary unrest—
Plashed and stained in the life of the year.
Crimson-plashed in the life of the year—
Oh! their clustering grace is dishevelled and torn,
And they scatter, distracted with fear:
And no haunt is too meek for their wearisome quest,
As they drift on forever in dreary unrest—
Plashed and stained in the life of the year.
Thus loved ones and lovely, though honored the most,
Are cast down from the heights they adorn:
Yet lovely, though smitten, are drifted and tossed
To be in a pitiless scorn;
Thus our hopes, bravely hung on life's tempest-blown tree,
Bloom and blanch in our dreams of a glorious "To Be,"
But are torn from the heights they adorn!
Are cast down from the heights they adorn:
Yet lovely, though smitten, are drifted and tossed
To be in a pitiless scorn;
Thus our hopes, bravely hung on life's tempest-blown tree,
Bloom and blanch in our dreams of a glorious "To Be,"
But are torn from the heights they adorn!
