What though the green leaf grow? ’T will last a month and day; In all sweet flowers that blow Lurks Death, his slave Decay. But if my lady smile There is no Death at all; The world is fair the while,— What though the red leaf fall?
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What Though the Green Leaf Grow?
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Sweet wooded way in life, forgetful Sleep! Dim, drowsy realm where restful shadows fall, And where the world’s glare enters not at all, Or in soft glimmer making rest more deep; Where sound comes not, or else like brooks that keep The world’s noise out, as by a slumberous wall Of gentlest murmur... |
What though the green leaf grow? ’T will last a month and day; In all sweet flowers that blow Lurks Death, his slave Decay. But if my lady smile There is no Death at all; The world is fair the while,— What though the red leaf fall? |
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