COMMONPLACES

[ZaunköniG]

COMMONPLACES

THERE is a sigh in every breeze that blows ;
The brightest song hath store of sorrow in it ;
Death glideth in the weakest stream that flows,
And joy flies all who reach and strain to win it
In every spring a fading autumn broods,
And summer smiles with winter at her heart ;
The merriest crowd doth hint of solitudes,
And light in darkness hath a counterpart ;
The gayest laughter hath a touch of doom,
The lightest speech an undertone of pain ;
The youngest heart will soon be in the tomb,
And cold annihilation will retain
In frozen grasp no eloquence can move
All living things and what they hate or love.