To live in hearts we leave behind Is not to die.
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On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
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O Star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there, to waft us home the message of despair?
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An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.
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To bear is to conquer our fate.
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Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh what were man?—a world without a sun.
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'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.
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Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave---oh leave the light of Hope behind.
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The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting.
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It may be strange—yet who would change Time's course to slower speeding,...
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Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind,
But leave---oh! leave the light of Hope behind.
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Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave---oh! leave the light of Hope behind.
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Without the smile from partial beauty won,
Oh what were man?—a world without a sun.
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