Mixed with all those dances,
Far through field and street
Sing their silent glances,
Ring their radiant feet.
Flowers wherewith May crowned us
Fall ere June be crowned:
Children blossom round us
All the whole year round.
Is the garland worthless
For one rose the less,
And the feast made mirthless?
Love, at least, says yes.
Strange it were, with many
Stars enkindling air,
Should but one find any
Welcome: strange it were,
Had one star alone won
Praise for light from far:
Nay, love needs his own one
Bright particular star.
Hope and recollection
Only lead him right
In its bright reflection
And collateral light.
Find as yet we may not
Comfort in its sphere:
Yet these days will weigh not
When it warms us here;
122
