Treasure Island

Ameen Rihani

(1876-1940 / Freike / Lebanon)

A Spring Dirge


Sad, sad, sad —
In vain thou comest, Spring ;
Sad, sad, sad —
In vain thy birds all sing:
Perfumeless is thy rose ;
Thy breeze, which softly blows,
Disturbs my sea of woes,
Ay, Death is on the wing.
Gone, gone, gone —
Go seek her, mocking Spring ;
Gone, gone, gone —
Aside thy garlands fling ;
Destroy thy laughing bower ;
Call back an April shower
To weep with me this hour :
He came, not reckoning.
Love, love, love —
What sendest thou with Spring?
Love, love, love —
What tidings these birds bring!
They tell me they can hear
Thee, in a higher sphere ;
But can that dry a tear,
Or give mv wish a wing?

Submitted: Thursday, April 17, 2014

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