From Spring Days to Winter by Oscar Wilde — Read

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(For Music)

In the glad springtime when leaves were green, / O merrily the throstle sings!

I sought, amid the tangled sheen, / Love whom mine eyes had never seen, / O the glad dove has golden wings!

Between the blossoms red and white, / O merrily the throstle sings!

My love first came into my sight, / O perfect vision of delight, / O the glad dove has golden wings!

The yellow apples glowed like fire, / O merrily the throstle sings!

O Love too great for lip or lyre, / Blown rose of love and of desire, / O the glad dove has golden wings!

But now with snow the tree is grey, / Ah, sadly now the throstle sings!

My love is dead: ah! well-a-day, / See at her silent feet I lay / A dove with broken wings!

Ah, Love! ah, Love! that thou wert slain --

Fond Dove, fond Dove return again!

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