Dead Leaves

When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
And summer came with lips aflame,
The gentle spring to woo;
And to us, wandering hand in hand,
Life was a fairy scene,
That golden morning in the woods
When these dead leaves were green!

How dream-like now that dewy morn,
Sweet with the wattle's flowers,
When love, love, love was all our theme,
And youth and hope were ours!
Two happier hearts in all the land
There were not then, I ween,
Than those young lovers' - yours and mine -
When these dead leaves were green.

How gaily did you pluck these leaves
From the acacia's bough,
To mark the lyric we had read -
I can repeat it now!
While came the words, like music sweet,
Your smiling lips between -
"So fold my love within your heart,"
When these dead leaves were green!

How many springs have passed since then?
Ah, wherefore should we count,
The years that sped, like waters fled
From Time's unstaying fount?
We've had our share of happiness,
Our share of care have seen;
But love alone has never flown
Since these dead leaves were green.

Your heart is kind and loving still,
Your face to me as fair,
As when, that morn, the sunshine played
Amid your golden hair.
So, dearest, sweethearts still we'll be,
As we have ever been,
And keep our love as fresh and true
As when these leaves were green.

Edward Booth Loughran
(1850-1928)
Began his working life as a teacher, and was subsequently a journalist, working on the Parliamentary Staff of the Melbourne newspaper The Argus, and later heading the staff of the Victorian Hansard. He contributed verse to The Argus and The Australasian, and published two volumes of poetry. His poems include verse translations of Greek, French and German poetry.

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