letra de augusta davies webster - young laughters, and my music - ghizela rowe
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young laughters, and my music! aye till now
the voice can reach no blending minors near;
’tis the bird’s trill because the spring is here
and spring means trilling on a blossomy bough;
’tis the spring joy that has no why or how
but sees the sun and hopes not nor can fear–
spring is so sweet and spring seems all the year
dear voice, the first-come birds but trill as thou
oh music of my heart, be thus for long:
too soon the spring bird learns the later song;
too soon a sadder sweetness slays content
too soon! there comes new light on onward day
there comes new perfume o’er a rosier way:
comes not again the young spring joy that went
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