Some go smiling through the grey time.
Under naked, songless bowers:
Some go mourning all the May time,
'Mid the laughing leaves and flowers.
Why is this,
Rosy Bliss
Comes to kiss Winter grey?
Why, ah! why
Doth Sorrow sigh
On the lap of lovely May?

Happy Love, with song and smiling,
Through the withered woodland goes:
Hapless Love hath no beguiling
From the redbreast or the rose.
This is why
Woods may sigh,
Flowers die and hearts be gay:
This, alas!
The piteous pass
That leaves us mourning all the May.