Fall.
37
"Swift ye forsake, slow fluttering to the ground,
These desolate boughs no more with glory crowned,
Where every rain may breathe its sighing sound.
These desolate boughs no more with glory crowned,
Where every rain may breathe its sighing sound.
"One, .and another, and another yet;
No time for grief to ripen to regret!
Full on my brow stands the sharp coronet.
No time for grief to ripen to regret!
Full on my brow stands the sharp coronet.
"Did the cold terror, curdling at my heart,
Strike sudden death, and force your clasp apart,
1 too were all too chill to feel ye part.
Strike sudden death, and force your clasp apart,
1 too were all too chill to feel ye part.
"But warm and fierce the vital torrent flows,
As keener thorns surround the brightest rose,
Death's bitterest draught life's ardor only knows."
As keener thorns surround the brightest rose,
Death's bitterest draught life's ardor only knows."
