Thou wilt come no more, gentle Annie,
Like a flower thy spirit did depart;
Thou art gone, alas! like the many
That have bloomed in the summer of my heart.
Chorus
Shall we nevermore behold thee;
Never hear thy winning voice again --
When the Springtime comes, gentle Annie,
When the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain?
We have roamed and loved mid the bowers
When thy downy cheeks were in their bloom;
Now I stand alone mid the flowers
While they mingle their perfumes o'er thy tomb.
Chorus
Ah! the hours grow sad while I ponder
Near the silent spot where thou art laid,
And my heart bows down when I wander
By the streams and the meadows where we strayed.
Chorus
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
I told you to run while you could,
get out before it's too late.
because I was the friendliest to strangers
and the strangest to friends.
My heart had never been open to dividends.
But your strangeness was similar to my strangeness: pushing out of fear - or had I made you that way?
You despised Mr. Hyde more than I did, but you loved Dr. Jekyl fervently with more compassion than I could ever give him...
I told you how it sometimes felt like I was living another's life... and looking at it now it's like I was sitting on a perpetual swing: x distance forward and x distance back.
We lucked out for so long because I would pull when you would push, and when I pushed you would pull me back. And for a while we both pulled. And then forever onward we pushed. Or forever wayward. Sometimes pulling in doesn't keep people from going away. And when you push someone, you can't expect them to pull you back. Because not everyone is sitting on the same swingset.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC