The Book of Odes, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1908]
Green is the upper robe,
Green with a yellow lining;
My sorrow none may probe,
Nor can I cease repining.
Green is the upper robe,
The lower garb is yellow;
My sorrow none may probe,
Nor any season mellow.
The silk was of emerald dye,
Ah! this was all your doing;
But I dream of an age gone by
To keep my heart from rueing.
Fine linen or coarse, ’tis cold,
But all I have to dress me;
So I think of the men of old,
And find brave thoughts possess me.