Here you will find thePoem选择of poet Augusta Davies Webster
The thrush that, yet alone, pipes for his mate Knows she will come in time to build the nest, Knows she'll be she his tiny soul loves best; 'Tis love-time at the hawthorn blossom's date: And the new flower-cups bare their hearts and wait While careless breezes bring them love for guest; And Youth laughs ready for the glad unrest; But Love that chooses lingers desolate. And I, who seek, and yearn for love to stir, And I, who seek, and cannot love but one And have not known her being, nor can find, I take my homeless way for sake of her; And love-time's here, and love-time will be done: Birds end all singing in the autumn wind.
