Through youth, through age, through death

To her own far away's receding star.

[10]

[10]

6

LASSITUDE

Ah! to be able to sing,

To sorrow in melody;

To string with silver

Sorrow's dark harp!

Or, mount every thorn

Crowning life's brow

With lustrous stars—

Those tears of the sky.

Rolling down its face

When night's hand puts

Darkness's crown on its head

As twilight dies.

None of these, for my soul;

Only to weep is given to me,

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