Once

I SET a lily long ago; I watched it whiten in the sun; I loved it well, I had but one. Then summer-time was done, The wind came and the rain, My lily bent, lay low. Only the night-time sees my pain— Alas, my lily long ago! I had a rose-tree born in May; I watched it burgeon and grow red, I breathed the perfume that it shed. Then summer-time had sped, The frost came with its sleep My rose-tree died away. Only the silence hears me weep— Alas, lost rose-tree! lost, lost May! The garden's lily blows once more; The buried rose will wake and climb; There is no thought of rain and rime After, next summer-time. But the heart's blooms are weak; Once dead for ever o'er. Not night, not silence knows me seek My joy that waned and blooms no more.