 | Poems and Romances |  |
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MORNING DEW.
The dewdrops vanish one by one,
That seem to glisten everywhere,
Drawn by the kisses of the sun
Into the thirsty lap of air;
They vanish, and they do not die,
Although the thirsty road be dry.
That seem to glisten everywhere,
Drawn by the kisses of the sun
Into the thirsty lap of air;
They vanish, and they do not die,
Although the thirsty road be dry.
The dew at night will fall in vain
On broken herbage by the way;
The dew will change to gentle rain,
And waken far-off flowers to May,
Yet herbs and flowers in every sky,
In every land, are born to die.
On broken herbage by the way;
The dew will change to gentle rain,
And waken far-off flowers to May,
Yet herbs and flowers in every sky,
In every land, are born to die.
The pleasant thoughts of dawning youth
Are parched away by toil and care,
And leave the dusty road of truth,
The trodden path of duty bare;
And yet our pleasant thoughts are true,
Although they pass like morning dew.
Are parched away by toil and care,
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The trodden path of duty bare;
And yet our pleasant thoughts are true,
Although they pass like morning dew.
They pass from us, their light is shed
On broken works of weary hands;
They pass from us, their sweetness fed
Some nobler toil in happier lands;
Yet every man beneath the sun
Doth all his deeds to be undone.
On broken works of weary hands;
They pass from us, their sweetness fed
Some nobler toil in happier lands;
Yet every man beneath the sun
Doth all his deeds to be undone.
Our pleasant thoughts are like the dew,
One half of heaven, one half of earth.
They seem to die, but they renew
The sacrament of their sweet birth;
But fruitful plants and deeds of men
Are earth, and turn to earth again.
One half of heaven, one half of earth.
They seem to die, but they renew
The sacrament of their sweet birth;
But fruitful plants and deeds of men
Are earth, and turn to earth again.
In thirsty fields of barren air
The dew is born to fall in vain.
Our thoughts go up to heaven, and there
They change to mists of golden rain,
Whereof the fourfold fountain-head
In Paradise is always fed.
The dew is born to fall in vain.
Our thoughts go up to heaven, and there
They change to mists of golden rain,
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In Paradise is always fed.
Our thoughts that seem to come and go
Abide, indeed, in God on high;
For He ordains to water so
The only tree that does not die,
And angels in its shadow sit,
But who is he shall eat of it?
Abide, indeed, in God on high;
For He ordains to water so
The only tree that does not die,
And angels in its shadow sit,
But who is he shall eat of it?
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