Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONG TO A WELCH AIR, by REGINALD HEBER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SONG TO A WELCH AIR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I mourn not the forest whose verdure is dying
Last Line: But the friend of my bosom returns not to me.
Subject(s): Love; Moon; Night; Bedtime


I MOURN not the forest whose verdure is dying;
I mourn not the summer whose beauty is o'er;
I weep for the hopes that for ever are flying;
I sigh for the worth that I slighted before;
And sigh to bethink me how vain is my sighing,
For love, once extinguish'd, is kindled no more.

The spring may return with his garland of flowers,
And wake to new rapture the bird on the tree;
The summer smile soft through his crystalline showers
The blessings of autumn wave brown o'er the lea:
The rock may be shaken, the dead may awaken,
But the friend of my bosom returns not to me.





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