Edward MacDowell - The west-wind croons in the cedar-trees
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The west-wind croons in the cedar-trees
The goldenrod nods by the lea
And Maud there's love in your bony black eyes;
Can it be meant for me?
The west-wind dies in the cedar-trees
The goldenrod droops by the lea
And Maud there's scorn in your merry black eyes
Surely not meant for me?
The east-wind moans in the cedar-trees
The goldenrod's dead by the lea
And Maud you may glancе with your cruel black eyes
Wintеr has come to me
The goldenrod nods by the lea
And Maud there's love in your bony black eyes;
Can it be meant for me?
The west-wind dies in the cedar-trees
The goldenrod droops by the lea
And Maud there's scorn in your merry black eyes
Surely not meant for me?
The east-wind moans in the cedar-trees
The goldenrod's dead by the lea
And Maud you may glancе with your cruel black eyes
Wintеr has come to me
