Spring Song Poem by George MacDonald
Spring Song
Days of old,
Ye are not dead, though gone from me;
Ye are not cold,
But like the summer-birds fled o'er some sea.
The sun brings back the swallows fast
O'er the sea;
When he cometh at the last,
The days of old come back to me.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: old,birds,sea,summer
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8/14/2026 2:58:57 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
