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BONDS.
As trees come out in fresher life
After the winter's woe and strife,—
Except these bonds.
After the winter's woe and strife,—
Except these bonds.
O friend! how fair, in sun and dew,
The flowers would bloom tile long year through,
But for the cruel winter-time!
I, too, were in my blossom-prime,
But for these bonds!
The flowers would bloom tile long year through,
But for the cruel winter-time!
I, too, were in my blossom-prime,
But for these bonds!
Each soul must have its strife with fate;
Tell me, which is the sadder state,
To fly, and fly, and find no rest,
Or dream away a life, oppressed
But by these bonds?
Tell me, which is the sadder state,
To fly, and fly, and find no rest,
Or dream away a life, oppressed
But by these bonds?
