These Summer Days When All The Poets Sing I Have No Voice For Song. I See The Birds Of Summer Taking Wing, And Days So Sweet And Long, Each Seemed A Little Heaven With No End, I Know Are Gone For Evermore, Dear Friend. Nay, By And By Comes Another Spring; And Long, Sweet, Perfect Days. And By And By I Shall Have Voice To Sing My Old Glad, Happy Lays. More Blithesome Songs, More Days That Have No End; More Golden Summers; But Like Thee No Friend.