University of Virginia Library

IV

He
proceeds in the direction of a stream:
Better is death than sleep,
Better for tired eyes.—
Why do we weep and weep
When near us the solace lies?
There, in that stream, that, deep,—
Reflecting woods and skies,—
Could comfort all our sighs.
The mystery of things,
Of dreams, philosophies,
To which the mortal clings,
That can unriddle these.—
What is 't the water sings?
What is 't it promises?—
End to my miseries!