The dawn grows red in the eastern sky,
( Long, so long is the day,)
And I lean from my lattice and sigh and sigh,
As I watch the night fog creeping by
And vanish over the bay.
The thrush soars up, over green clad hills,
( The day is long, so long;)
Like liquid silver his music spills,
And ever it quivers, and runs, and trills
In a glad sweet burst of song.
Under my window there blooms a rose,
( How long a day can be. )
And I lean and whisper what no soul knows
Of my heart's sorrows and secret woes,
And the red rose sighs,‘ Ah me!’
A ship sails into the waiting bay,
( The day is long, alack,)
But what would that matter to me, I pray
If the ship that sailed out yesterday
Should never more come back.
The summer sun rides high and clear,
( The day is long, so long,)
How long it must be ere it grows to a year —
How deep the sorrow that finds no tear,
But only a wail of song.