SPEYER, Leonora

Summer Sorrow

What shall meadow hold to please me,

Spreading wide its scented waving,

How shall quiet mosses ease me,

Or the night-wind cool my craving?

Hill and hedgerow, cloud-sweet sky,

Echo our good-by.

Bud unplucked and leaf a-quiver,

Bird that lifts a tuneless trilling,

Restless dream of brook and river,

All June’s cup a wasted spilling—

You and I so thirsty-hearted!—

Summer knows us parted.