Lord Alfred Douglas

Through the still air of
Suddenly comes, alone and shrill,
Like the far-off voice of the distant light,
The single piping

Thou sombre lady of down-bended head,
And weary lashes drooping to the cheek,
With sweet sad fold of lips uncomforted,
And listless hands more tired with strife than meek ;

Dear friend, dear brother,
I have owed you
Since many days, the tribute of a song
Shall I cheat you who never did a

Roses red and white,
Every rose is hanging her head,
Silently comes the lady Night,
Only the flowers can hear her tread

At Turney in Flanders I was
Fore-doomed to splendour and sorrow,
For I was a king when they cut the corn,
And they strangle me

See what a mass of gems the city
Upon her broad live bosom
row on
Rubies and emeralds and amethysts glow

Not all the singers of a thousand years Can open English prisons
No
Though hell Opened for Tracian Orpheus, now the spell Of song and art is powerless as the tears That love has shed
You that were full of fears,

Alas
and oh that Spring should come
Upon the soft wings of desired days,
And bring with her no anodyne to pain,

Jonquil was a shepherd lad,
White he was as the curded cream,
Hair like the buttercups he had,
And wet green eyes like a full chalk

I have been through the woods
And the leaves were falling,
Summer had crept away,
And the birds were not calling

Voici venir le
Now is the hour when, swinging in the breeze,
Each flower, like a censer, sheds its sweet
The air is full of scents and melodies,

Mere des souvenirs, mattresses des
Mother of Memories
O mistress-queen
Oh