His beauty bore no token, No sign our gladness shook;
With tender strength unbroken The hand of Life he took:
But the summer flowers were falling, Falling and fading away,
And mother birds were calling, Crying and calling For their loves that would not stay.
He knew not Autumn's chillness, Nor Winter's wind nor Spring's.
He lived with Summer's stillness And sun and sunlit things:
But when the dusk was falling He went the shadowy way,
And one more heart is calling, Crying and calling For the love that would not stay.
