Poems (Craik)/A Silly Song
HEART, my heart!" she said, and heard His mate the blackbird calling,While through the sheen of the garden green May rain was softly falling,— Aye softly, softly falling.
A SILLY SONG.
HEART, my heart!" she said, and heard His mate the blackbird calling,While through the sheen of the garden green May rain was softly falling,— Aye softly, softly falling.The buttercups across the field Made sunshine rifts of splendor:The round snow-bud of the thorn in the wood Peeped through its leafage tender, As the rain came softly falling.
"O heart, my heart!" she said and smiled, "There 's not a tree of the valley,Or a leaf I wis which the rain's soft kiss Freshens in yonder alley, Where the drops keep ever falling,—
"There 's not a foolish flower i' the grass, Or bird through the woodland calling,So glad again of the coming of rain As I of these tears now falling,— These happy tears down falling."