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William James Linton

Spring and Autumn

'Thou wilt forget me.'  'Love has no such word.'
The soft Spring wind is whispering to the trees,
Among lime-blossoms have the hovering bees
        Those whispers heard?
 
'Or thou wilt change.'  'Love changeth not:' he said.
The purple heather cloys the air with scent
Of honey. O'er the moors her lover went,
        Nor turned his head.