The Place
Frances LedwidgeOriginale | La versione degli Anúna |
THE PLACE | WHEN THE WAR IS OVER |
Blossoms as old as May I scatter here, And a blue wave I lifted from the stream. It shall not know when winter days are drear Or March is hoarse with blowing. But a-dream The laurel boughs shall hold a canopy Peacefully over it the winter long, Till all the birds are back from oversea, And April rainbows win a blackbird's song. | When the war is over I shall take my lute a-down to it And sing again songs of the whispering things Of the whispering things And those I love, and those I love Shall know them by their strain Those I love When the war is over And April rainbows win a blackbird's song |
And when the war is over I shall take My lute a-down to it and sing again Songs of the whispering things amongst the brake, And those I love shall know them by their strain. Their airs shall be the blackbird's twilight song, Their words shall be all flowers with fresh dews hoar.— But it is lonely now in winter long, And, God! to hear the blackbird sing once more. | Their airs shall be, their airs shall be The blackbird's twilight song But it is lonely now, lonely now In winter, in winter long And, God, to hear the blackbird The blackbird sing once more When the war is over, war is over |