Like To A Silver Bow - Darkseed

Once I wrote her name upon the sand,

but came a way and washed it away

Again I wrote it with a second hand,

but came a tide, made my plans prey

Who so list to think, I know where is a sign

I am of them that furthest come behind

Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind

draw from my thought, but as they flee

ashore, fainting I follow, I leave off

therefore, since in a net I seek to hold

the wind

The sweet seasons, that bud and bloom

forth brings

The summer has come, for every spray

now springs

With green had clad the hill and here

the vale

The nightingale with feathers new