What lips my lips have kissed and where and whyI have forgotten and what arms have lainUnder my head till morning but the rainIs full of ghosts tonight that tap and sighUpon the glass and listen for replyAnd in my heart there stirs a quiet painFor unremembered lads that not againWill turn to me at midnight with a cry.Thus in the winter stands the lonely treeNor knows what birds have vanished one by oneYet knows its boughs more silent than beforeI cannot say what loves have come and goneI only know that summer sang in meA little while that in me sings no more.