The Green Singer

ALL singers have shadows  
 That follow like fears,  
But I know a singer  
 Who never saw tears;  
A gay love—a green love—          
 Delightsome—divine:  
The Spring is that singer—  
 An old love of mine!  
 
All players have shadows,  
 And into the play          
Old sorrows will saunter—  
 Old sorrows will stay.  
But here is a player  
 Whose speech is divine:  
The Spring is that player—          
 An old love of mine!  
 
All singers grow heavy:  
 Their hours as they run  
Bite up all the blossoms,  
 Suck up all the sun;          
But I know a singer  
 Delightsome—divine:  
The gay love—the green love—  
 An old love of mine!