The thrush that, yet alone, pipes for his mate
Knows she will come in time to build the nest,
Knows she'll be she his tiny soul loves best;
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Yet another love poem, nicely written
ew flower-cups bare their hearts and wait
While careless breezes bring them love for guest;
And Youth laughs ready for the glad unrest;
But Love that chooses lingers desolate.
And I, who seek, and yearn for love to stir,
And I, who seek, and cannot love but one
And have not known her being, nor can find,
I take my homeless way for sake of her;
And love-time's here, and love-time will be done:
Birds end all singing in the autumn wind.
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Yet another love poem, nicely written ew flower-cups bare their hearts and wait While careless breezes bring them love for guest; And Youth laughs ready for the glad unrest; But Love that chooses lingers desolate. And I, who seek, and yearn for love to stir, And I, who seek, and cannot love but one And have not known her being, nor can find, I take my homeless way for sake of her; And love-time's here, and love-time will be done: Birds end all singing in the autumn wind.