NO SONG

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

These summer days when all the poets sing

I have no voice for song.

I see the birds of summer taking wing,

And days so sweet and long,

Each seemed a little heaven with no end,

I know are gone for evermore, dear friend.

Nay, by and by comes another Spring;

And long, sweet, perfect days.

And by and by I shall have voice to sing

My old glad, happy lays.

More blithesome songs, more days that have no end;

More golden summers; but like thee no friend.