AH, me! for evermore, for evermore
These human hearts of ours must yearn and sigh,
While down the dells and up the murmurous shore
Nature renews her immortality.
The heavens of June stretch calm and bland above,
June roses blush with tints of Orient skies,
But we, by graves of joy, desire, and love,
Mourn in a world which breathes of Paradise!
The sunshine mocks the tears it may not dry,
The breezes--tricksy couriers of the air--
Child-roisterers winged, and lightly fluttering by--
Blow their gay trumpets in the face of care;
And bolder winds, the deep sky's passionate speech,
Woven into rhythmic raptures of desire,
Or fugues of mystic victory, sadly reach
Our humbled souls, to rack, not raise them higher!
The field-birds seem to twit us as they pass
With their small blisses, piped so clear and loud;
The cricket triumphs o'er us in the grass,
And the lark, glancing beamlike up the cloud,
Sings us to scorn with his keen rhapsodies;
Small things and great unconscious tauntings bring
To edge our cares, whilst we, the proud and wise.
Envy the insects joy, the birdling's wing!
And thus for evermore, till time shall cease,
Man's soul and Nature's--each a separate sphere--
Revolve, the one in discord, one in peace,
And who shall make the solemn mystery clear?
