THE songs that the wind has sung,
The scents that the wind has flung
From the flower-hearts where they clung
But yesterday —
These are too sweet to linger or delay.
The songs that haunt the past,
The fragrances too faint to last —
Will they never come
Wearily, happily home
To the flowers where they clung,
To the heart of the wind that has sung,
Forever to live in the air —
Forever there?
The dreams that are past and gone!
Is there not one
That shall ever come
Wearily, happily home ?
Shall they forever fade
Into the passing shade
With all the passing fragrance that has clung
In long dead flowers,
And with the dying hours
Die with the songs the dreaming wind has sung?