To agony, But one heart lies beneath, and that is good, SONG. VIOLET ! sweet violet ! Thine eyes are full of tears ; Are they wet Even yet With the thought of other years? Loved-one of my youth thou wast, And I see, Tearfully, All the fair and sunny past, Thy little heart, that hath with love Can it know All the woe Of hope for what returneth never, Out on it! no foolish pining For the sky Dims thine eye, Or for the stars so calmly shining ; Like thee let this soul of mine Take hue from that wherefor I long, Self-stayed and high, serene and strong, Not satisfied with hoping - but divine. |