 | Songs of Consolation |  |
45
LIFE'S RECHEAT.
ON every hand we stumble, at threescore,
On graves, memorials of a bygone day,
The milestones of Life's over-travelled way.
Here lieth that which time may not restore:
The loves, the lusts, the hates of heretofore,
Youth's hopes and yearnings, visions grave and gay,
Here in Time's treasure are they laid away,
In their own shape to see the sun no more.
On graves, memorials of a bygone day,
The milestones of Life's over-travelled way.
Here lieth that which time may not restore:
The loves, the lusts, the hates of heretofore,
Youth's hopes and yearnings, visions grave and gay,
Here in Time's treasure are they laid away,
In their own shape to see the sun no more.
Though, as in youth, my soul is full of Spring,
Though, with an equal fire, the good, the true,
The awakening year, the flowering earth's increase,
All that is fair and feat, I love and sing,
Yet, at threescore, God wot, I should not rue
To lie with those I love and be at peace.
Though, with an equal fire, the good, the true,
The awakening year, the flowering earth's increase,
All that is fair and feat, I love and sing,
Yet, at threescore, God wot, I should not rue
To lie with those I love and be at peace.
| Songs of Consolation | |