“Has summer come without the rose?”

Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy (1844–1881)

HAS summer come without the rose,

Or left the bird behind?

Is the blue changed above thee,

O world! or am I blind?

Will you change every flower that grows,

Or only change this spot,

Where she who said, I love thee,

Now says, I love thee not?

The skies seemed true above thee,

The rose true on the tree;

The bird seemed true the summer through,

But all proved false to me.

World, is there one good thing in you,

Life, love, or death—or what?

Since lips that sang, I love thee,

Have said, I love thee not?

I think the sun’s kiss will scarce fall

Into one flower’s gold cup;

I think the bird will miss me,

And give the summer up.

O sweet place, desolate in tall

Wild grass, have you forgot

How her lips loved to kiss me,

Now that they kiss me not?

Be false or fair above me;

Come back with any face,

Summer!—do I care what you do?

You cannot change one place,—

The grass, the leaves, the earth, the dew,

The grave I make the spot,—

Here, where she used to love me,

Here, where she loves me not.