Poetry Archives

I loved my love from green of Spring
  Until sere Autumn’s fall;
But now that leaves are withering
  How should one love at all?
  One heart’s too small
For hunger, cold, love, everything.

I loved my love on sunny days
  Until late Summer’s wane;
But now that frost begins to glaze
  How should one love again?
  Nay, love and pain
Walk wide apart in diverse ways.

I loved my love,—alas to see
  That this should be, alas!
I thought that this could scarcely be,
  Yet has it come to pass:
  Sweet sweet love was,
Now bitter bitter grown to me.