In July

His beauty bore no token,

  No sign our gladness shook;

With tender strength unbroken

  The hand of Life he took:

But the summer flowers were falling,

  Falling and fading away,

And mother birds were calling,

    Crying and calling

  For their loves that would not stay.

He knew not Autumn's chillness,

  Nor Winter's wind nor Spring's.

He lived with Summer's stillness

  And sun and sunlit things:

But when the dusk was falling

  He went the shadowy way,

And one more heart is calling,

    Crying and calling

  For the love that would not stay.