Bidding him good night. she leaves him straight.
That in truth's the thing for me!
Lay on God's eternal breast,He ordain'd its hour of birth,
In memory's tomb, like some old lay;And yet across my mind it rush'd
Wind! Oh, if thou hadst but reason,Word for word in turns thou'dst carry,E'en though some perchance might perish'Tween two lovers so far distant.
And to raise thy rapture high,Must a thousand rosebuds fair
In the valley down below'Neath his footsteps spring the flowers,And the meadowIn his breath finds life.
Shall my secret be known.
Wake the mournful ghosts of men,I, too, wake, and each night-bird.
As of ancestors, he hears them,Speaking of his son and grandsons.His great-grandsons stand around him,Like a race of valiant mortals,Him to honour,--him, the youngest.And one token on anotherRises up, the proof completing;The identity is provenOf himself, and of his comrades.
Earthbound, alone.Now that He's reft us,
On the tombs that lie scatter'd below:The moon fills the place with her silvery light,
Crashing on him falls my hatchet.
In action, and in love so radiant now;Let all things be where thou art, childlike ever,Thus thoult be all, thus, thou'lt be vanquish'd never."
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