Samuel Coleridge-Taylor
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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"Too late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late! You loitered on the way too long, You trifled at the gate: Th'enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate; Th'enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate; Her heart was starving all this while You made it wait, you made it wait." "Ten years ago, five years ago, One year ago, E'en then you had arrived in time, Though somewhat slow; Then you had known her living face Which now you cannot know. The frozen fountains would have leaped, The buds gone on to blow, The warm south wind would have awaked, To melt the snow, To melt the snow." "You should have wept her yesterday, Wasting upon her bed: But wherefore, wherefore, should you weep today That she is dead? Lo, we who love, weep not to day, But crown her royal head. Let be these poppies that we strew, Your roses are too red: Let be these poppies, not for you Cut down and spread." "You should have wept her yesterday."
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