over the evergreen summer meadow

Avoice that sings
Like viol strings
Through the wane
Of the pale year
Lulleth me here
With its strain.


My soul is faint
At the bell's plaint
Ringing deep;
I think upon
The days begone
And I weep.


And I go'
Where the winds know,
Broken and brief,
To and fro,
As the winds blow
A deaf leaf.