Poems (Radford)/The Morning Songs
The Morning Songs
And will you sing the songs anew,
The songs you made for me,
When, in the sunrise and the dew,
The earth seemed made so fair, for you
To turn to melody?
The songs you made for me,
When, in the sunrise and the dew,
The earth seemed made so fair, for you
To turn to melody?
And will you seek the flowers again
You gathered in the spring,
Sweet flowers, fragrant with the rain
Of tears you will not weep again,
In all your gathering?
You gathered in the spring,
Sweet flowers, fragrant with the rain
Of tears you will not weep again,
In all your gathering?
Ah no, the morning songs are sung,
And Time treads on apace,
High overhead the sun is hung,
While in its heat your life is swung,
God grant you fullest grace:
And Time treads on apace,
High overhead the sun is hung,
While in its heat your life is swung,
God grant you fullest grace:
And tuneful car to string your lute
To every season's range,
Until your lips are cold and mute,
Till song and blossom bear their fruit
In the great changeless change.
To every season's range,
Until your lips are cold and mute,
Till song and blossom bear their fruit
In the great changeless change.
But when the last full numbers break,
The songs you made for me
Shall stir, as when the birds awake,
And in your heart sweet singing make,
Of morning memory.
The songs you made for me
Shall stir, as when the birds awake,
And in your heart sweet singing make,
Of morning memory.