with thy strain,— But dumb are still the mountains, And dead the rocks remain.

For whom, O heavenly singer, Thy song so clear and free? Who hears or sees or heeds thee, Who feels or cares for thee?

Thou may’st outpour in music Thy very soul... ’Twere vain! In stone thou canst not waken A throb of joy or pain.

Thy song shall soon be silenced; I feel it... For I know Thy heart is near to bursting With loneliness and woe.

Ah, vain is thine endeavor; It naught availeth—nay; For lonely as thou camest, So shalt thou pass away.

 I’ve Often Laughed

I’ve often laughed and oftener still have wept, A sighing always through my laughter crept, Tears were not far away... What is there to say?

I’ve spoken much and oftener held by tongue, For still the most was neither said nor sung. Could I but tell it so... What is there to know?

I’ve hated much and loved, oh so much more! Fierce contrasts at my very heartstrings tore... I tried to fight them—well... What is there to tell?

 Again I Sing my Songs

Once again my songs I sing thee, Now the spell is broken; Brothers, yet again I bring thee Songs of love the token. Of my joy and of my sorrow Gladly, sadly bringing;— Summer not a song would borrow— Winter sets me singing.

O when life turns sad and lonely, When our joys are dead; When are heard the ravens only In the trees o’erhead; When the stormwind on the bowers Wreaks its wicked will, When the frost paints lying flowers, How should I be still?

When the clouds are low descending, And the sun is drowned; When the winter knows no ending, And the cold is crowned; When with evil gloom oppressed Lie the ruins bare; When a sigh escapes the breast, Takes us unaware;

When the snow-wrapped mountain dreams Of its summer gladness, When the wood is stripped and seems Full of care and sadness; When the songs are growing still As in Death’s repose, And the heart is growing chill, And the eyelids close;

Then, O then I can but sing For I dream her coming— May, sweet May! I see her bring Buds and wild-bee humming! Through the silence heart-appalling, As I stand and listen, I can hear her song-birds calling, See her green leaves 

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