 | Lyrics (1895) |  |
183
GENETHLIACON
What shall I wish for you, O my friend,
What shall I dare to bring,
Now when the turbulent winter's end
Hangs on the verge of spring?
Ragged and black is the fringe of cloud,
Hoarsely the wet winds blow,
Loud is the freshet, chill and loud,
Warm is the life below!
What shall I dare to bring,
Now when the turbulent winter's end
Hangs on the verge of spring?
Ragged and black is the fringe of cloud,
Hoarsely the wet winds blow,
Loud is the freshet, chill and loud,
Warm is the life below!
What would you wish for yourself, my friend?
That you would never tell;
Slow to earn and lavish to spend,
Oh! you have laboured well.
Treading firm with your strenuous feet,
Gazing with fearless eye,
Praise were sweet to you, art were sweet;—
Only you pass them by.
That you would never tell;
Slow to earn and lavish to spend,
Oh! you have laboured well.
184
Gazing with fearless eye,
Praise were sweet to you, art were sweet;—
Only you pass them by.
Take my pitiful praise, my friend,—
Love is not always blind;—
We that know not whither we tend,
We that struggle behind,
This was the patient track, we will say,
Here, where the strong feet trode,
On to the dawn of a clearer day,
On to the heights of God.
Love is not always blind;—
We that know not whither we tend,
We that struggle behind,
This was the patient track, we will say,
Here, where the strong feet trode,
On to the dawn of a clearer day,
On to the heights of God.
| Lyrics (1895) | |