ariadne.
125
Too near the beating of earth's mighty heart,
Not to have learned in part how she can joy
And grieve!
Not to have learned in part how she can joy
And grieve!
'Twas on a night last June,
Into the clear, bold sky,
The little stars stole each with separate thrill,
And the mossed fir-top woke its mystic rune
Close by.
Into the clear, bold sky,
The little stars stole each with separate thrill,
And the mossed fir-top woke its mystic rune
Close by.
Upon yon westering slope,
Two glorious human shapes there stood,
Rosy with twilight, listening to my song:
I knew I sang to them of love and hope,
Life's good.
Two glorious human shapes there stood,
Rosy with twilight, listening to my song:
I knew I sang to them of love and hope,
Life's good.
The little stars' soft rays
Again thrill through their realm of peace;
One shadow haunts the slope,—a song I sing
To match the broken music of her days—
Then cease.
Again thrill through their realm of peace;
One shadow haunts the slope,—a song I sing
To match the broken music of her days—
Then cease.
