Song

(To an air by HENRY LAWES, published in 1652)

The flowers that in thy garden rise, Fade and are gone when Summer flies, And as their sweets by time decay, So shall thy hopes be cast away.

The Sun that gilds the creeping moss Stayeth not Earth's eternal loss: He is the lord of all that live, Yet there is life he cannot give.

The stir of Morning's eager breath-- Beautiful Eve's impassioned death-- Thou lovest these, thou lovest well, Yet of the Night thou canst not tell.

In every land thy feet may tread, Time like a veil is round thy head: Only the land thou seek'st with me Never hath been nor yet shall be.

It is not far, it is not near, Name it hath none that Earth can hear; But there thy Soul shall build again Memories long destroyed of men, And Joy thereby shall like a river Wander from deep to deep for ever.

[When she has finished the child runs into her arms.]

FLORA. Your spell has won her, and I marvel not: She was but half our own. [To the Child] Farewell, dear child, 'Tis time to part, you with this lovely lady To dance in silver halls, and gather stars And be the dream you are: while we return To the old toil and harvest of the Earth. Farewell! and farewell all!

ALL. Farewell! farewell!

[Exeunt omnes.

The Cicalas: An Idyll

Scene: AN ENGLISH GARDEN BY STARLIGHT

Persons: A LADY AND A POET