 | Poems |  |
340
[When all their blooms the meadows flaunt]
When all their blooms the meadows flaunt
To deck the morning of the year,
Why tinge thy lustres jubilant
With forecast or with fear?
To deck the morning of the year,
Why tinge thy lustres jubilant
With forecast or with fear?
Teach me your mood, O patient stars!
Who climb each night the ancient sky,
Leaving on space no shade, no scars,
No trace of age, no fear to die.
Who climb each night the ancient sky,
Leaving on space no shade, no scars,
No trace of age, no fear to die.
| Poems | |