A Hymn of Empire and Other Poems

by Frederick George Scott


 

SONG

(From the Italian of Guerrini)


 

WHEN the leaves are falling, Dearest,
 And you seek the quiet mound
Where I slumber, you will find it
 With a wealth of blossoms crowned.

Gather, then, for thy bright tresses

5
Gather, then, for thy bright tresses
 Those that from my heart have sprung;
They’re the love-thoughts that I spoke not,
 And the songs I left unsung.