She paved the way with perfume
Of flowers that moved like winds alight,
And never weary grew my
Wandering through[the spring's delight.
She dropped her sweet fife to her
And lured me with her melodies,
To where the great big wandering
Put out into the peaceful seas.
But when the year grew chill and brown,
And all the wings of Summer flown,
Within the tumult of a
She left me to grow old alone.
This poem taken from "Last Songs" by Francis Ledwidge,
Published by Herbert Jenkins,
London 1918 page 22-23checked and verified
Sprobable date of writing 1916
