John Vance Cheney


One


ONE whitest lily, reddest rose,
None other such the summer knows;
Of bird or brook one perfect tune,
And sung is all the sweet of June.
 
Once come and gone, the one dear face,
Forever empty is its place;
But one far voice the lover hears,
Calling across the waste of years.






English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru