IMMORTAL.
IN a far-gone, mystic summer,
Lit by sun and lulled by rain,
When the new moons rose in wonder
And the old moons died in pain—
Lit by sun and lulled by rain,
When the new moons rose in wonder
And the old moons died in pain—
On the clouds a dreaming painter
Hung a picture of his bride,
And a Poet sang his rapture
To the ebbing of the tide;
Hung a picture of his bride,
And a Poet sang his rapture
To the ebbing of the tide;
But, alas! the years have vanished
In the sunlight and the rain;
Still the new moons glow in wonder,
Still the old moons die in pain.
In the sunlight and the rain;
Still the new moons glow in wonder,
Still the old moons die in pain.
(42)
