Recurrence

We shall have our little day

Take my hand and travel still

Round and round the little way

Up and down the little hill



It is good to love again

Scan the renovated skies

Dip and drive the idling pen

Sweetly tint the paling lies



Trace the dripping, pierced heart

Speak the fair, insistent verse

Vow to God, and slip apart

Little better, Little worse



Would we need not know before

How shall end this prettiness

One of us must love the more

One of us shall love the less



Thus it is, and so it goes

We shall have our day, my dear

Where, unwilling, dies the rose

Buds the new, another year