During Wind And Rain

They sing their dearest songs -      He, she, all of them - yea,      Treble and tenor and bass,      And one to play;      With the candles mooning each face . . .      Ah, no; the years O!     How the sick leaves reel down in throngs!      They clear the creeping moss -      Elders and juniors - aye,      Making the pathways neat      And the garden gay;      And they build a shady seat . . .      Ah, no; the years, the years;     See, the white storm-birds wing across!      They are blithely breakfasting all -      Men and maidens - yea,      Under the summer tree,      With a glimpse of the bay,      While pet fowl come to the knee . . .      Ah, no; the years O!     And the rotten rose is ript from the wall.      They change to a high new house,      He, she, all of them - aye,      Clocks and carpets and chairs      On the lawn all day,      And brightest things that are theirs . . .      Ah, no; the years, the years;     Down their carved names the rain-drop ploughs.