19.05.2008, 10:08
The Abbey of Metten
How bright the day to memory ever dear,
When 'mid thy hallowed scenes I felt how good
It was to dwell in blessed brotherhood
With hearts, as thine, great, loyal, and sincere:
Glad, kindly, cheerful, though of life austere,
In converse meek with nature's changeful mood,
And gathering in sylvan solitude
Rich harvests of the soul from year to year.
It was the mellow autumn: sweet and calm
The golden sunshine lay on all the scene,
And fresh as breath of morning came the air:
And bright the cloisters gleamed from out the green,
Fragant of peace and hope and sorrow's balm,
And over all the spirit moved of prayer.
How bright the day to memory ever dear,
When 'mid thy hallowed scenes I felt how good
It was to dwell in blessed brotherhood
With hearts, as thine, great, loyal, and sincere:
Glad, kindly, cheerful, though of life austere,
In converse meek with nature's changeful mood,
And gathering in sylvan solitude
Rich harvests of the soul from year to year.
It was the mellow autumn: sweet and calm
The golden sunshine lay on all the scene,
And fresh as breath of morning came the air:
And bright the cloisters gleamed from out the green,
Fragant of peace and hope and sorrow's balm,
And over all the spirit moved of prayer.