 | Carmina crucis |  |
12
A REMEMBRANCE.
“Herb ist des Lebens
Innerster Kern.”
Innerster Kern.”
She sang at evening in an ancient room,
In the Spring twilight; soft the sunset gloom,
And at the casement soft the pear-tree's bloom
Look'd in, and from the coppice warblings soft
And slender, met low bleatings from the croft,
Peace was on all within, without; yet pain
Made sweet the singer's voice, made sweet the strain
She sang, and in the listener's heart was pain;
What art thou, Life? methinks thou leavest room
For the sweet bird to sing, the flower to bloom,
And canst not give the heart its little hour
To spread in sweeter song, in fairer flower;
Oh! thou art bitter, Life! within thy strong
Rude grasp the birth-right crushing, let this wrong
13
Reluctant hand one little boon unfold;
Take not the blessing also! give the breast
One little sunset hour of peace and rest;
Canst thou not give one hour? The day is past,
The summer's golden noon was overcast;
The day is past, the night draws on: oh! night!
Be thou more warm, more kind, than was the light!
| Carmina crucis | |