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her song - john ireland lyrics

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i sang that song on sunday
to which an idle while
i sang that song on monday
as fittest to beguile:
i sang it as the year outwore
and the new slid in;
i thought not what might shape before
another would begin

i sang that song in summer
all unforeknowingly
to him as a new*comer
from regions strange to me:
i sang it when in afteryears
the shades stretched out
and paths were faint; and flocking fears
brought cup*eyed care and doubt

sings he that song on sundays
in some dim land afar
on sat*rdays, or mondays
as when the evening star
glimpsed in upon his bеnding face
and my hanging hair
and time untouched mе with a trace
of soul*smart or despair?

- john ireland lyrics

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