HOW glad we were of the morn, When the royal Sun climbed high, And the winds went wild with glee, And the birds flew singing by -- Till the swift, bright hours were spent, And the scornful stars looked down, For Night is stronger than Day -- And hearts turn cold at its frown. Ah well, it is so with Life -- We hope, we despair, we die -- We joy in the transient strife -- Then low in the dust we lie -- And over us blossoms creep -- And the moon and the stars look down -- What matter when we are asleep? We heed neither smile, nor frown. |