| If you were coming in the fall
|
| I’d brush the summer by
|
| With half a smile and half a spurn
|
| As housewives do a fly
|
| If I could see you in a year
|
| I’d wind the months in balls
|
| And put them each in separate drawers
|
| Until their time befalls
|
| If only centuries delayed
|
| I’d count them on my hand
|
| Subtracting till my fingers dropped
|
| Into Van Dieman’s land
|
| If certain, when this life was out
|
| That yours and mine should be
|
| I’d toss it yonder like a rind
|
| And taste eternity
|
| But now, all ignorant of the lengths of time
|
| Uncertain wing, it goads me like
|
| The goblin bee
|
| That will not state its sting
|
| If only centuries delayed
|
| I’d count them on my hand
|
| Subtracting till my fingers dropped
|
| Into Van Diemen’s land
|
| If certain, when this life was out
|
| That yours and mine should be
|
| I’d toss it yonder like a rind
|
| And taste eternity
|
| If you were coming in the fall
|
| I’d brush the summer by
|
| With half a smile and half a spurn
|
| As housewives do a fly
|
| If only centuries delayed
|
| I’d count them on my hand
|
| Subtracting till my fingers dropped
|
| Into Van Diemen’s land
|
| If certain, when this life was out
|
| That yours and mine should be
|
| I’d toss it yonder like a rind
|
| And taste eternity
|
| If you were coming in the fall
|
| I’d brush the summer by
|
| With half a smile and half a spurn
|
| As housewives do a fly |