The Green Singer

ALL singers have shadows That follow like fears, But I know a singer Who never saw tears; A gay love—a green love— Delightsome—divine: The Spring is that singer— An old love of mine! All players have shadows, And into the play Old sorrows will saunter— Old sorrows will stay. But here is a player Whose speech is divine: The Spring is that player— An old love of mine! All singers grow heavy: Their hours as they run Bite up all the blossoms, Suck up all the sun; But I know a singer Delightsome—divine: The gay love—the green love— An old love of mine!