And so the Sun In it’s dependable way,
Pulls back the drapes for another bright day,
The Age-Old custom of renewal and birth,
The journey of the Heavens to light the good Earth.
But what do I care, for to another she has flown,
I have Lilies by the score for every Love that I’ve known.
From the Gall of the Lark putting ‘Callas’ to shame,
And so anointing the Boughs with every refrain ,
To that idiot of a Butterfly now the Roses are in Bloom,
It flutters and it flits now that Summer is in Tune.
But what do I care, for to another she has flown,
I have Lilies by the score for every Love that I’ve known.
July the Mad Fool is in her best Party-Dress ,
All Ribbons and Lace from Meadow to Crest,
As the Villagers now gather with annoying good cheer,
Like a Tale of old ‘Wessex’ when Hardy was here.
But what do I care, for to another she has flown,
I have Lilies by the score for every Love that I’ve known.
All Passionate Lovers by a yearning embrace ,
Sigh tokens of Love with the Dusk on their face,
As the Season takes hold with Its Ornament and Song,
I’ve no time for the Ways where her tread had once gone.
But what do I care, for to another she has flown,
I have Lilies by the score for every Love that I’ve known.
The Peering Old Moon with all Writers Regard,
The Midwife of Verse for the Amorous Bard,
Looks down on us all, that gaze-up to Its height ,
The Sun’s worthy Lapdog , It’s pale Acolyte.
But what do I care, for to another she has flown,
I have Lilies by the score for every Love that I’ve known.