The Last Hour
Reading edition
O joys of love and joys of fame, It is not you I shall regret: I sadden lest I should forget The beauty woven in earth’s name. The shout and battle of the gale, The stillness of the sun-rising, The sound of some deep hidden spring, The glad sob of the filling sail, The first green ripple of the wheat, The rain-song of the lifted leaves, The waking birds beneath the eaves, The voices of the summer heat.
Ethel Clifford