THEY sing their dearest songs-- br He, she, all of them--yea, br Treble and tenor and bass. br And one to play; br With the candles mooning each face.... br Ah, no; the years O! br How the sick leaves reel down in throngs! br br They clear the creeping moss-- br Elders and juniors--aye, br Making the pathways neat br And the garden gay; br And they build a shady seat.... br Ah, no; the years, the years; br See, the white storm-birds wing across! br br They are blithely breakfasting all-- br Men and maidens--yea, br Under the summer tree, br With a glimpse of the bay, br While pet fowl come to the knee.... br Ah, no; the years O! br And the rotten rose is ripped from the wall. br br They change to a high new house, br He, she, all of them--aye, br Clocks and carpets and chairs br On the lawn all day, br And brightest things that are theirs.... br Ah, no; the years, the years; br Down their carved names the raindrop plows.