From objects whirling with the earth's swift motion,
And now I think I'll wander never more,
What, if those secrets waited at my door?"
Youth and Age.
Do you remember, how one night,
When never rose a star on high,
We stepped into the dubious light
Beneath the silence of the sky,
—You wondered,—so did I!
Your life was of the sun and flower,
But mine was of the autumn leaf,
And we imagined every hour
Would take us farther from our grief,
Forgetting time, the thief!
And yet the thief was on the wing,
And caught me gray—but you, pure white!
And now because life's splendours cling
Unto the freshness of your light,
I wonder, was I right?
A Lament.
Alas, alas!—the roses cried despairing,
That leaf by leaf our glory should decay!
That all our splendours should be earth and clay,
And dream-like fade for all our crimson daring!
No more the winds our raptures wide are bearing,
—No more our fragrance doth uplift the day,
And passionate pilgrims now no more do stray,
Around us dreamless, death's dark splendours wearing!
