Page:Florence Earle Coates Mine and Thine 1904 122.jpg

 Can it be that birds will sing,

Though Adonis die?

Never earthly bloom, I wis,

With his beauty could compare;

Never voice was sweet as his

Who lieth there;

And, thou blue Idalian sky,

Thou did'st smile upon our lot,

And I knew my love must die,—

But believed it not!

Whither now to take my way?

If I seek on mountains bare,

Or in caverns hid from day,—

Shall I find him there?

Will the rivers give him back,

Or the woods of Adon tell?