European Elegies/Summer/Grief at dawn
85.GRIEF AT DAWN
When I behold the lark that soarsIn fluttering joy athwart the sun,And poised in lyric peace outpoursThe rapture of a day begun,The sight of his pure happinessMakes my dark grief once more awake:Ah, strange, that in such sore distressMy longing heart should fail to break!
Alas, how much I thought I knewOf human pain—how much more nowWhen love has said its long adieuAnd fruitless is each tender vow!My joys were hers, we felt a freeSweet love from others set apart;And passing, she has left to meHer memory and an aching heart.
From the Provençal of Bernart de Ventadorn.