We really needed not.

O, not in vain she gave

To the wild birds their wings!

They spread them forth, and have

Heaven for their wanderings.

But we, to whom no wings are given

Why seek we for a Heaven?

[42]

And, when far o'er us fly

Those voyagers of the air,

Why must we gaze, and sigh,

O would that I were there?

Why are we restless, ill content,

Tied to one element?

'Tis not that in our tears

Some happier life we crave;

Our happiest, sweetest years

Mysterious moments have:

The sense of our brief human lot

Clings to us, haunts our thought.

 Prev. P 42/44 next