Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/147



the lower lands of day On the hither side of night, There is nothing that will stay, There are all things soft to sight; Lighted shade and shadowy light In the wayside and the way, Hours the sun has spared to smite, Flowers the rain has left to play.

Shall these hours run down and say No good thing of thee and me? Time that made us and will slay Laughs at love in me and thee;