 | Poems, original and translated |  |
A MEMORY.
As, year by year, pale autumn's leaves
Breathe requiems by his native shore,
A spirit's voice is heard, that grieves
For him whose form returns no more.
Breathe requiems by his native shore,
A spirit's voice is heard, that grieves
For him whose form returns no more.
As, year by year, bright autumn days
Come down from God's transparent skies,
A spirit's voice gives grateful praise
For him whose memory never dies.
Come down from God's transparent skies,
A spirit's voice gives grateful praise
For him whose memory never dies.
| Poems, original and translated | |