Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson

* * *

IN the green and gallant Spring,
Love and the lyre I thought to sing,
And kisses sweet to give and take
By the flowery hawthorn brake.

Now is russet Autumn here,
Death and the grave and winter drear,
And I must ponder here aloof
While the rain is on the roof. 

1. I Know Not How, But As I Count
2. Requiem
3. Late, O Miller
4. Songs of Travel and Other Verses. 18. THE stormy evening closes now in vain
5. Ad Martialem

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