All the heart's rich germs ye brought to flower; Things I could not reach, ye gave to me![6] In thy beauty and thy light, O Nature, Free from care and from compulsion free, Fruitful Love attained a kingly stature, Rich as harvests reaped in Arcady. "That which brought me up, is dead and riven, Dead the youthful world which was my shield; And this breast, which used to harbor heaven, Dead and dry as any stubble-field. Still my Springlike sorrows sing and cover With their friendly comfort every smart— But the morning of my life is over And the Spring has faded from my heart. . . . "Shadows are the things that once we cherished; Love itself must fade and cannot bide; Since the golden dreams of youth have perished, Even friendly Nature's self has died. Heart, poor heart, those days could never show it— How far-off thy home, and where it lies . . . Now, alas, thou nevermore wilt know it If a dream of it does not suffice."
Palinodia.
"What gathers about me, Earth, in your dusky, friendly green?
What are you blowing towards me, Winds, what do you bring again?
There is a rustling in all the tree-tops. . . .
"Why do you wake my soul?
Why do ye stir in me the past, ye Kind ones?
Oh, spare me, and let them rest; oh, do not mock
Those ashes of my joy. . . .
"O change your changeless gods—
And grow in your youth over the old ones.
