Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/132



death have broken Sweet life's love-token, Till all be spoken That shall be said, What dost thou praying, O soul, and playing With song and saying, Things flown and fled? For this we know not— That fresh springs flow not And fresh griefs grow not When men are dead; When strange years cover Lover and lover, And joys are over And tears are shed.

If one day's sorrow Mar the day's morrow— If man's life borrow And man's death pay—