A Line-storm Song

The line-storm clouds... are flyin' low Between the ocean... and the sun. Along the trees... the shadows go, And the birds are vanished... every one. The woods are wrecked, the flowers are blown, The sky is overcast and sad; And the hearts of men... are why they groan, A summer's pride... is looking forlorn. But come, my love, be my dear, And we’ll forget the storm is near. The gold the orchard cast is gone, But in your eyes, the light stays on. Oh, be my love... and be my dear. There is a gale that bloweth black, And the fields are silver with the mist. The roads are wet with autumn rain, I would not have the sun again. It’s a love-and-forget kind of atmosphere, But the only thing real... is that you are here. But come, my love, be my dear! And we’ll forget the storm is near! The gold the orchard cast is gone, But in your eyes, the light stays on. In the hollow of the winds... Be my love...