European Elegies/Autumn (1)/Loss
13.LOSS
The spring has gone. And I have lost the flowers
I might have gathered from its meadow-grass.
I merely marked the sudden spring aspire
Up through the turf in frost and golden fire,
And, as I dallied, saw that glory pass
As swiftly as the rainbow of June showers.
Ah, maiden beauty, fleeting are thy hours!
I might have gathered from its meadow-grass.
I merely marked the sudden spring aspire
Up through the turf in frost and golden fire,
And, as I dallied, saw that glory pass
As swiftly as the rainbow of June showers.
Ah, maiden beauty, fleeting are thy hours!
Summer has gone. And I have missed the gleaning
I might have gathered from its harvest-field .
I merely marked the flaming wheat-waves swaying
Across the leas where summer winds were playing;
But as I gazed, time seized that yellow yield
And fate forestalled my frantic intervening—
Ah, love, at last I know thy tragic meaning!
I might have gathered from its harvest-field .
I merely marked the flaming wheat-waves swaying
Across the leas where summer winds were playing;
But as I gazed, time seized that yellow yield
And fate forestalled my frantic intervening—
Ah, love, at last I know thy tragic meaning!
Autumn has come. Bare stubbled prairies taunt me
In my sad brooding on what might have been.
Across the sky the haggard mists are weaving
A fog-shroud for the dying sun's receiving;
And fears of these dark days, bereavement's keen
Heart-hunger and deep thirst of spirit haunt me.
Alas, the terrors of love's winter daunt me!
In my sad brooding on what might have been.
Across the sky the haggard mists are weaving
A fog-shroud for the dying sun's receiving;
And fears of these dark days, bereavement's keen
Heart-hunger and deep thirst of spirit haunt me.
Alas, the terrors of love's winter daunt me!
From the Slovak of Hviezdoslav.