The Green Singer

All singers have shadows
 * That follow like fears;

But I know a singer
 * Who never saw tears;

A gay love! a green love!
 * Delightsome! divine!

The Spring is a singer,
 * An old love of mine.

All players have sorrows,
 * And into the play

Old sorrows will saunter—
 * Old sorrows will stay.

But here is a player
 * Whose speech is divine!

The Spring is a player,
 * And old love of mine.

All singers grow heavy:
 * The hours as they run

Bite up all the blossoms,
 * Suck up all the sun;

But I know a singer
 * Delightsome! divine!

The gay love! the green love!
 * An old love of mine.