|
|
Rarely,
rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore
hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a
weary night and day 'Tis since thou art fled away.
How shall ever one like me Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free Thou wilt scoff at pain.
Spirit false! thou hast forgot All but those who need
thee not.
As a lizard with the shade Of a
trembling leaf, Thou with sorrow art dismayed;
Even the sighs of grief Reproach thee, that thou art
not near, And reproach thou wilt not hear.
Let
me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure; Thou
wilt never come for pity, Thou wilt come for
pleasure; - Pity then will cut away Those cruel
wings, and thou wilt stay.
I love all that thou
lovest, Spirit of Delight! The fresh Earth in new
leaves dressed, And the starry night; Autumn
evening, and the morn When the golden mists are born.
I love snow and all the forms Of the radiant
frost; I love waves, and winds, and storms,
Everything almost Which is Nature's, and may be
Untainted by man's misery.
I love tranquil
solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and
good: - Between thee and me What diff'rence? but
thou dost possess The things I seek, not love them
less.
I love Love -though he has wings, And
like light can flee, But above all other things,
Spirit, I love thee - Thou art love and life! O come!
Make once more my heart thy home!
|
|
|