Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearièd,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea-shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.'
Known to the Gods! Known to Man! Known to the Devil himself! Placid wanning nights, to the Daughter of Forgiveness To the Son of Rightousness brilliant days of golden light And to the Bastard Child not but woe and misery. Mother and Father be not forgotten, For yours is the greatest of all gifts, given by the maidans overwrought And the men of marble, from the Fields Harvest and the Funeral Pyres. You receive the love of all your people. Never cursed as the Bastard. Never thought weak as the Daughter and never thought over-zealous As your Son. Souls follow you through your gates of Holy Brilliance. Pawing for the awe of the transluent light you cast upon all in your wake. You bring Hope to all that seek it. Never letting go of any of your children No matter how far they push themselves away. You coddle. You love. You do this without thought. Yet they leave you. Silent they grow and ever more distant. Desolate and gone. Forever to wander the Earth without your love.
Known to the Gods! Known to Man! Known to the Devil himself!
Placid wanning nights, to the Daughter of Forgiveness
To the Son of Rightousness brilliant days of golden light
And to the Bastard Child not but woe and misery.
Mother and Father be not forgotten,
For yours is the greatest of all gifts, given by the maidans overwrought
And the men of marble, from the Fields Harvest and the Funeral Pyres.
You receive the love of all your people. Never cursed as the Bastard.
Never thought weak as the Daughter and never thought over-zealous
As your Son. Souls follow you through your gates of Holy Brilliance.
Pawing for the awe of the transluent light you cast upon all in your wake.
You bring Hope to all that seek it. Never letting go of any of your children
No matter how far they push themselves away.
You coddle. You love. You do this without thought.
Yet they leave you. Silent they grow and ever more distant.
Desolate and gone. Forever to wander the Earth without your love.