Once

I SET a lily long ago;

   I watched it whiten in the sun;

   I loved it well, I had but one.

   Then summer-time was done,

The wind came and the rain,

My lily bent, lay low.

Only the night-time sees my pain—

Alas, my lily long ago!

I had a rose-tree born in May;

   I watched it burgeon and grow red,

   I breathed the perfume that it shed.

   Then summer-time had sped,

The frost came with its sleep

My rose-tree died away.

Only the silence hears me weep—

Alas, lost rose-tree! lost, lost May!

The garden's lily blows once more;

   The buried rose will wake and climb;

   There is no thought of rain and rime

   After, next summer-time.

But the heart's blooms are weak;

Once dead for ever o'er.

Not night, not silence knows me seek

My joy that waned and blooms no more.