The Gates of Time and Other Poems

by Frederick George Scott




Love was wanting songs to sing
    On a golden day,
When the earth was bright with Spring
    And the flowers of May.

So he lay beside the brink

    Of a quiet stream,
Where the cattle go to drink
    And the clouds to dream.

Sunbeams lit the woods around,
    Breezes fanned his cheek,

And the blossoms on the ground
    Almost seemed to speak.

In the branches overhead
    Robin sang his love,
And the tender things he said

    Filled the skies above.

Flitting through the scented air
    Where the stream was bright,
Little flies went here and there,
    Crazy with delight.


But though all were bright and glad,
    Silent was Love’s lute,
For such happiness he had
    That his lips were mute.

So he lay there in the grass

    By the quiet stream,
And he watched the cattle pass
    And the shadows dream.

Till when evening, dumb and grey,
    Closed the buds that had uncurled,

Full of song he stole away
    Down the music of the world.