 | Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset |  |
177
“O GLAD YOUNG YEAR!”
Thy feet are light upon the morning hills,
O glad young year!
What dost thou bring to man, or bliss, or ban,
Or joy, or hope, or fear,
O glad young year?
O glad young year!
What dost thou bring to man, or bliss, or ban,
Or joy, or hope, or fear,
O glad young year?
A gay voice floated from the untroubled sky
Like a child's laugh,—“Mortal, I know not, I!”
Like a child's laugh,—“Mortal, I know not, I!”
Thy face is hidden, though thy steps are light,
O blithe young year!
Lift thou the veil! Art thou not passing fair,
As fair as thou art dear—
O blithe young year?
O blithe young year!
Lift thou the veil! Art thou not passing fair,
As fair as thou art dear—
O blithe young year?
A voice replied from out the unfathomed sky—
“I show my face to no man, no, not I!”
“I show my face to no man, no, not I!”
178
In a twelve-month thou wilt be old and wan,
Thou short-lived year!
Thou wilt have gone where centuries lie dead.
Ere then, what cheer? What cheer?
Speak thou, O year!
Thou short-lived year!
Thou wilt have gone where centuries lie dead.
Ere then, what cheer? What cheer?
Speak thou, O year!
A deep voice echoed from the far-off sky—
“Ask me not thou! Mortal, God knows—not I!”
“Ask me not thou! Mortal, God knows—not I!”
| Last poems including Afterglow and Beyond the sunset | |