 | Ephemeron |  |
If the counter-charm of sorrows
Lurks profound in Power or Fame,
Let us live laborious morrows—
Let us build a lofty Name!
Lurks profound in Power or Fame,
9
Let us build a lofty Name!
Kiss a long good-bye to Pleasure,
Follow Fortune far and fast—
Eyes agape for rule or treasure,
Nets in troubled waters cast—
Harvest moonshine beyond measure—
But the end must come at last.
Follow Fortune far and fast—
Eyes agape for rule or treasure,
Nets in troubled waters cast—
Harvest moonshine beyond measure—
But the end must come at last.
If the morn of life has found us
Happy in its milder rays—
If the fiery noon-tide crowned us
With the glory of its blaze—
Darker shadows gather round us,
In the evening of our days.
Happy in its milder rays—
If the fiery noon-tide crowned us
With the glory of its blaze—
Darker shadows gather round us,
In the evening of our days.
Can the stoutest heart be cheery
On a march to end like this?
Yet a little, worn and weary,
Every comrade thou shalt miss,
On the pathway, stern and dreary,
Leading to the vast Abyss.
On a march to end like this?
Yet a little, worn and weary,
Every comrade thou shalt miss,
On the pathway, stern and dreary,
Leading to the vast Abyss.
10
Past each sun-lit slope and meadow—
Under dead autumnal skies,
In the Land of Dream and Shadow
Deeper yet the journey lies.
Still to seek the El Dorado
That shall never meet our eyes.
Under dead autumnal skies,
In the Land of Dream and Shadow
Deeper yet the journey lies.
Still to seek the El Dorado
That shall never meet our eyes.
Fewer flowers are worth the gleaning,
Drearier grows the Blasted Heath—
On we go, with listless meaning,
Feebler footstep, fainter breath—
On a broken staff y-leaning,
Slowly plodding on to death.
Drearier grows the Blasted Heath—
On we go, with listless meaning,
Feebler footstep, fainter breath—
On a broken staff y-leaning,
Slowly plodding on to death.
Weary wayfarers from dawning,
Calmly might we close our eyes,
Could ye tell us that a Morning
On our slumber shall arise!
Calmly might we close our eyes,
Could ye tell us that a Morning
On our slumber shall arise!
| Ephemeron | |