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MY WIND is turned to bitter north, That was so soft a south before; My sky, that shone so sunny bright, With foggy gloom is clouded o’er My gay green leaves are yellow-black, Upon the dank autumnal floor; For love, departed once, comes back No more again, no more. A roofless ruin lies my home, For winds to blow and rains to pour; One frosty night befell, and lo, I find my summer days are o’er: The heart bereaved, of why and how Unknowing, knows that yet before It had what e’en to Memory now Returns no more, no more. |