Return To Greet Me, Colours That Were My Joy, Not In The Woeful Crimson Of Men Slain, But Shining As A Garden; Come With The Streaming Banners Of Dawn And Sundown After Rain. I Want To Fill My Gaze With Blue And Silver, Radiance Through Living Roses, Spires Of Green Rising In Young-Limbed Copse And Lovely Wood, Where The Hueless Wind Passes And Cries Unseen. I Am Not Sad; Only I Long For Lustre, - Tired Of The Greys And Browns And The Leafless Ash. I Would Have Hours That Move Like A Glitter Of Dancers Far From The Angry Guns That Boom And Flash. Return, Musical, Gay With Blossom And Fleetness, Days When My Sight Shall Be Clear And My Heart Rejoice; Come From The Sea With Breadth Of Approaching Brightness, When The Blithe Wind Laughs On The Hills With Up-Lifted Voice.