Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/21

 Fill the living veins of vine, While a faint moon hangs between Broidery of a leafy screen; Though the glossy fig may swell, And Night hear her Philomel, While sweet lemon blossom breathes, And fair Sun his falchion wreathes With rich depending golden fruit, Or crimson roses at his foot, All is desolate and mute! Dark to-day, and dark to-morrow! Ah! the silence and the sorrow!