27.01.2019, 08:32
II.
THOU art no dreamer, O, thou stern To-day !
The dead past had its dreams ; the real is thine.
An armored knight, in panoply divine,
It is not thine to loiter by the way,
Though all the meads with summer flowers be gay,
Though birds sing for thee, and though fair stars shine,
And every god pours for thee life's best wine !
Nor friend nor foe hath strength to bid thee stay.
Gleaming beneath thy brows with smoldering fire
Thine eyes look out upon the eternal hills
As forth thou ridest with thy spear in rest.
From the far heights a voice cries, " Come up higher ! "
And in swift answer all thy being thrills,
When lo ! 'tis night thy sun is in the west!
.
THOU art no dreamer, O, thou stern To-day !
The dead past had its dreams ; the real is thine.
An armored knight, in panoply divine,
It is not thine to loiter by the way,
Though all the meads with summer flowers be gay,
Though birds sing for thee, and though fair stars shine,
And every god pours for thee life's best wine !
Nor friend nor foe hath strength to bid thee stay.
Gleaming beneath thy brows with smoldering fire
Thine eyes look out upon the eternal hills
As forth thou ridest with thy spear in rest.
From the far heights a voice cries, " Come up higher ! "
And in swift answer all thy being thrills,
When lo ! 'tis night thy sun is in the west!
.