Forever and a Day

I.

I little know or care

If the blackbird on the bough

Is filling all the air

With his soft crescendo now;

For she is gone away,

And when she went she took

The springtime in her look,

The peachblow on her cheek,

The laughter from the brook,

The blue from out the May -

And what she calls a week

Is forever and a day!

II.

It's little that I mind

How the blossoms, pink or white,

At every touch of wind

Fall a-trembling with delight;

For in the leafy lane,

Beneath the garden boughs,

And through the silent house

One thing alone I seek.

Until she come again

The May is not the May,

And what she calls a week

Is forever and a day!