John Vance Cheney

The message from the hedge-leaves,
Heed it, whoso thou art;
Under lowly eaves
Lives read more

The message from the hedge-leaves,
Heed it, whoso thou art;
Under lowly eaves
Lives the happy heart.

The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves,
Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives;
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The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves,
Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives;
Over and over
To the lowly clover
He has lisped the same love (and forgotten it, too).
He will be lisping and pledging to you.

A breath, whence no man knows,
Swaying the grating weeds, it blows;
It comes, it grieves, it read more

A breath, whence no man knows,
Swaying the grating weeds, it blows;
It comes, it grieves, it goes.
Once it rocked the summer rose.

No command of art,
No toil, can help you hear;
Earth's minstrelsy falls clear
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No command of art,
No toil, can help you hear;
Earth's minstrelsy falls clear
But on the listening heart.

We look through gloom and storm-drift
Beyond the years:
The soul would have no rainbow
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We look through gloom and storm-drift
Beyond the years:
The soul would have no rainbow
Hard the eyes no tears.