A fool I was to sleep at noon,
         And wake when night is chilly
Beneath the comfortless cold moon;
A fool to pluck my rose too soon,
         A fool to snap my lily.

My garden-plot I have not kept;
         Faded and all-forsaken,
I weep as I have never wept:
Oh it was summer when I slept,
        It's winter now I waken.

Talk what you please of future spring
         And sun-warmed sweet to-morrow:--
Stripped bare of hope and every thing,
No more to laugh, no more to sing,
         I sit alone with sorrow.