E. A. Mac-Dowell The Robin Sings in the Apple-tree ^{минус №2}

The Robin sings in the apple-tree,
The black bird swings on the thorn,
The day grows old and silence falls,
Leaving my heart forlorn…

Night brings rest to many a soul
Jet mine is dark with woe;
Can I forget the days gone by
When my love I whispered low?

O Robin, and thou black bird brave,
My songs of love have died,
How could you sing as in by gone days,
When she was at my side!