Mathilde Blind

The Songs of Summer

The songs of summer are over and past!
  The swallow's forsaken the dripping eaves;
  Ruined and black 'mid the sodden leaves
The nests are rudely swung in the blast:
  And ever the wind like a soul in pain
  Knocks and knocks at the window-pane.

The songs of summer are over and past!
  Woe's me for a music sweeter than theirs--
  The quick, light bound of a step on the stairs,
The greeting of lovers too sweet to last:
  And ever the wind like a soul in pain
  Knocks and knocks at the window-pane.