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the riddle of beauty.
Blue autumn flower, thy deep heart stores
Heaven's azure;
And thence from out thy chalice pours
Rare pleasure.
The frost a plague-spot blackening casts;
Thy fringe is torn when sleety blasts
Grow stronger;
Men love thee while thy beauty lasts;
No longer.
Heaven's azure;
And thence from out thy chalice pours
Rare pleasure.
The frost a plague-spot blackening casts;
Thy fringe is torn when sleety blasts
Grow stronger;
Men love thee while thy beauty lasts;
No longer.
Thou maid, around whose lip and eye
Intwining,
The loveliest tints of earth and sky
Are shining,—
Thy sweet song dies; thy freshness must
Fade like a flower's, by blight and dust
O'ertaken;
And all the roots of mortal trust
Are shaken.
Intwining,
The loveliest tints of earth and sky
Are shining,—
Thy sweet song dies; thy freshness must
Fade like a flower's, by blight and dust
O'ertaken;
And all the roots of mortal trust
Are shaken.
O, why should thus the beautiful
O'erbrood us,
Yet ever its harmonious rule
Elude us?
O'erbrood us,
Yet ever its harmonious rule
Elude us?
