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作词 : George William Daly |
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Why, in my dreams, do you lay in autumn’s bowered leaves |
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And can you still bring the singing wind with only love’s ancient memory? |
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Where was that time? And how in the graying years of time forgotten, |
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I ask, does any other love drive the down but our love? |
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Still quiet runs the ancient brook where our love once played in the browning fall; |
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And redemption lies far away in the cloudy skies. |
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And still I listen, as the songs of trees, |
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Sung with solemn autumn grace, |
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Where the ghosts of Winter danged with us, |
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Repeat and repeat to your memory. |
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