GROWN AND FLOWN.

I loved my love from green of Spring Until sere Autumn's fall; But now that leaves are withering How should one love at all?

One heart's too small For hunger, cold, love, everything. I loved my love on sunny days Until late Summer's wane;

But now that frost begins to glaze How should one love again? Nay, love and pain Walk wide apart in diverse ways.

I loved my love,— alas to see That this should be, alas! I thought that this could scarcely be, Yet has it come to pass:

Sweet sweet love was, Now bitter bitter grown to me.