All day and all night it is ever drawn And the mountain draws it from Heaven above, And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full, (1853) XXXI NOTHING WILL DIE WHEN will the stream be aweary of flowing When will the wind be aweary of blowing When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting? The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, Nothing will die ; All things will change Through eternity. 'Tis the world's winter; Shall make the winds blow Round and round, Through and through, Here and there, Till the air And the ground Shall be filled with life anew. The world was never made; It will change, but it will not fade. For even and morn Through eternity. Nothing was born; Nothing will die ; All things will change. (1830) XXXII ALL THINGS WILL DIE CLEARLY the blue river chimes in its flowing Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing One after another the white clouds are fleeting; Yet all things must die. The stream will cease to flow; All things must die. Spring will come never more. Death waits at the door. See! our friends are all forsaking Laid low, very low, In the dark we must lie. Oh! misery! Hark! death is calling T (1830) The red cheek paling, The strong limbs failing; Ice with the warm blood mixing; Nine times goes the passing bell: The old earth Had a birth, As all men know, Long ago. And the old earth must die. So let the warm winds range, Ye will never see All things were born. Ye will come never more, For all things must die. XXXIII HERO TO LEANDER Oн go not yet, my love, The night is dark and vast; The white moon is hid in her heaven above, And the waves climb high and fast. Oh! kiss me, kiss me, once again, Lest thy kiss should be the last. Oh kiss me ere we part; Grow closer to my heart. My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the main. Oh joy! O bliss of blisses! My heart of hearts art thou. Come bathe me with thy kisses, My eyelids and my brow. Hark how the wild rain hisses, And the loud sea roars below. Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs, Thine eye in drops of gladness swims. Thou shalt not wander hence to-night, Will rend thy golden tresses; Will be both blue and calm ; And the billow will embrace thee with a kiss as soft as mine. No western odours wander On the black and moaning sea, Thy voice is sweet and low The turretstairs are wet That lead into the sea. Leander! go not yet. The pleasant stars have set : Or I will follow thee. (1830) XXXIV THE MYSTIC ANGELS have talked with him, and showed him thrones: Ye scorned him with an undiscerning scorn: The still serene abstraction: he hath felt And yet again, again and evermore, For the two first were not, but only seemed, For him the silent congregated hours, Of earliest youth pierced through and through with all Upheld, and ever hold aloft the cloud Which droops low hung on either gate of life, Upburning, and an ether of black blue, (1830) XXXV THE DYING SWAN I THE plain was grassy, wild and bare, An under-roof of doleful gray. And loudly did lament. And took the reed-tops as it went. |