28.10.2007, 09:19
LIFE.
ALAS ! sweet Life, that thou must fly so fast !
Is there no breathing-place for thee and me ?
So much we have to say and learn and see,
So late it seems since Spring's glad moments passed ;
And now the leaves change colour at the blast,
And the chill mists come creeping up the lea,
While one by one friends leave me silently
For the strange rest that ends this coil at last :
With them depart the splendour and the glow,
The fervour caught from meadow, mount, and river,
The lovely light, purer than unstained snow,
That rilled dear eyes and made the pulses quiver.
Ah ! let me then call back the word I said,
'Tis better life should fly when friends have fled.
ALAS ! sweet Life, that thou must fly so fast !
Is there no breathing-place for thee and me ?
So much we have to say and learn and see,
So late it seems since Spring's glad moments passed ;
And now the leaves change colour at the blast,
And the chill mists come creeping up the lea,
While one by one friends leave me silently
For the strange rest that ends this coil at last :
With them depart the splendour and the glow,
The fervour caught from meadow, mount, and river,
The lovely light, purer than unstained snow,
That rilled dear eyes and made the pulses quiver.
Ah ! let me then call back the word I said,
'Tis better life should fly when friends have fled.