A MONTH of green and tender May, <br />All woods and walks awake with flowers, <br />Wide sunlit meadows for the day, <br />And moon-bathed paths for evening hours; <br />A bright brief dream that had no past, <br />And of the future knew no fear; <br />A kiss at first, a sigh at last-- <br />Only last year. <br /> <br /> <br />Another spring, dim soulless woods; <br />No farewell kiss, no parting tear; <br />No stone to mark where silence broods <br />O'er the dead love we found so dear. <br />But, oh, to me the green seems grey, <br />The budding branches all are sere, <br />For sweet love's sake, that died one day, <br />Only last year.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-ii-8/
