The Green Singer

All singers have shadows That follow like fears; But I know a singer Who never saw tears; A gay love! a green love! Delightsome! divine! The Spring is a singer, An old love of mine.

All players have sorrows, And into the play Old sorrows will saunter— Old sorrows will stay. But here is a player Whose speech is divine! The Spring is a player, And old love of mine.

All singers grow heavy: The hours as they run Bite up all the blossoms, Suck up all the sun; But I know a singer Delightsome! divine! The gay love! the green love! An old love of mine.