Idyls and Songs by Francis Turner Palgrave: 1848-1854 |
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| II. |
| III. |
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| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
 | XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXII. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. | LXXIX.
DAS IMMERGRÜN. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXII. |
 | Idyls and Songs |  |
167
LXXIX. DAS IMMERGRÜN.
I weep a loss for ever fresh,
A grief for ever young:
A deafening cry of ceaseless woe
An inner weight of utterance low
For ever, ever, on the heart is hung,
Tho' rarely on the tongue.
All things are wither'd from their birth:
Gone is the glory of the earth:—
—Yet as of yore the fields are green,
Th' eternal heavens blue:
Moon, stars, and sun their courses run,
And Life is born anew.
A grief for ever young:
A deafening cry of ceaseless woe
An inner weight of utterance low
For ever, ever, on the heart is hung,
Tho' rarely on the tongue.
All things are wither'd from their birth:
Gone is the glory of the earth:—
—Yet as of yore the fields are green,
Th' eternal heavens blue:
Moon, stars, and sun their courses run,
And Life is born anew.
—We stood within the quiet field,
Beneath the quiet sky.
They laid her in her quiet bed:
The dead cold earth received the dead:
They hid her from the mute enquiring eye:
She seem'd again to die.
All things with her must fail and fade:
Earth lies beneath th' entombing shade:—
—Yet as of yore the fields are green,
Th' eternal heavens blue:
Moon, stars, and sun their courses run,
And Life is born anew.
Beneath the quiet sky.
They laid her in her quiet bed:
The dead cold earth received the dead:
They hid her from the mute enquiring eye:
She seem'd again to die.
All things with her must fail and fade:
Earth lies beneath th' entombing shade:—
—Yet as of yore the fields are green,
Th' eternal heavens blue:
Moon, stars, and sun their courses run,
And Life is born anew.
168
O cold gray walls! O quiet field!
O bitter voiceless sky!
O silent earth,—her narrow bed—
Where are the spirits of the Dead?—
In silent woe we gaze around—on high—
And silence makes reply.—
That azure veil but masks the pall:
There is one common end for all:—
—Yet as of yore the fields are green,
Th' eternal heavens blue:
Moon, stars, and sun their courses run,
And Life is born anew.
O bitter voiceless sky!
O silent earth,—her narrow bed—
Where are the spirits of the Dead?—
In silent woe we gaze around—on high—
And silence makes reply.—
That azure veil but masks the pall:
There is one common end for all:—
—Yet as of yore the fields are green,
Th' eternal heavens blue:
Moon, stars, and sun their courses run,
And Life is born anew.
So we accept our victim lot:
We bend us to the knife.
Grief brings no anodyne for grief:
And to forget were worse relief:—
—The World renews itself by love and strife:
Life heeds no former life.
Our lesson speaks where she lies low;
We hide our woe within our woe:—
—For as of yore the fields are green,
Th' eternal heavens blue:
Moon, stars, and sun their courses run,
And Life is born anew.
We bend us to the knife.
Grief brings no anodyne for grief:
And to forget were worse relief:—
—The World renews itself by love and strife:
Life heeds no former life.
Our lesson speaks where she lies low;
We hide our woe within our woe:—
—For as of yore the fields are green,
Th' eternal heavens blue:
Moon, stars, and sun their courses run,
And Life is born anew.
| Idyls and Songs | |