{48}

Go down, Remembrance, into Lethe, go!

When work was hard and sacrifice in vain,

And stones were hurled at thee, thy flowers trodden

Into the soil, that, soaked with all thy blood,

Could not resist, and giving way would swallow

Thy noblest thoughts, and teach thee to undo

Thyself, gainsay thyself, as if a coward

Were crouching on thy shoulders, making thee

Believe that all thy heroism was

A sham—then say: Go down to Lethe, Thought,

And darken not the hour when I rise

Out of myself, out of the past, into

The open day of wide forgetfulness.

When shame has crept into the rocky strength,

Into the pure recess a spotless soul

Had lent thee, and with fiery coals has burnt

A mark no rivers wash away, no winds

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Can cool, that sends a shudder through thy heart,

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