And as I sing, Love lives again; Where’er I go, His voice is in the summer rain, His footprints on the snow. And while October turns to gold, I dream that April buds unfold, Ah tell me will the Spring-time bring The Love that went before the Spring? _The Shepherd’s Song_ I have heard him say he was as well pleased with as with any of his later and more ambitious verse; but it is curious to note that, quite unconsciously, he repeated the line “But now the strings have all one tone” in the _Lute Song_, written nearly thirty years after, for _The Beauty Stone_, an opera done in conjunction with Sir Arthur Pinero to Sir Arthur Sullivan’s music. * * * * * The book of _The Beauty Stone_ was published, but I quote the _Lute Song_ for those who did not know it. THE LUTE’S SONG. I. Ah, why dost sigh and moan? Ah, why? ah, why? Queen of the laughing May Who wears thy crown to-day? Good-bye! good-bye! Yea, for all mirth hath flown; The strings have all one tone-- Ah, why? ah, why? II. It is the lute that sings, Not I! not I! Methinks some sleeping heart That once had felt Love’s smart Doth wake and cry! Nay, hark! ’tis love’s own wings That fan the trembling strings-- Not I! Not I! But dainty as is this little song, it does not to my mind equal in charm the duet of the two old lovers in the same opera. THE OLD LOVERS OFFERING ONE ANOTHER THE BEAUTY STONE. SIMON. I would see a maid who dwells in Zolden-- Her eyes are soft as moonlight on the mere; The spring hath fled, the ripened year turns golden-- Shall I win her ere the waning of the year? The reaping-folk pass homeward by the fountain; What is it then that calls me from the dell, What bids me climb the path beside the mountain To the down beyond the sheepfold? Who can tell? Then take it, for this magic stone hath power To change thee to the fairest; yet to me Thou wert fairest as I knew thee in that hour When a maiden dwelt in Zolden! Ah, take it, ’tis for thee! JOAN. I would see a youth who comes from Freyden-- He is straighter than the mountain pine-trees grow; Gossips say he comes to woo a maiden, So the gossips say--but can they know? Three laughing maids are in the hollow, Yet none will set him straight upon his way; Nay! soft! for he hath found the path to follow-- He is coming! little heart, what will he say? Then take it, for this magic stone hath power To change thee to the fairest, yet to me Thou wert fairest as I knew thee in that hour When a youth came up from Freyden! Ah, take it, ’tis for thee!