tasso.
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The rock meets the fern's soft caress,And that flower that meek salutationSends starward, looks timid to earth.
Ah! the lark in the cloud-rack bathes,And drinks at the air's still fountains,And is he not thirstless and pure?
O for life that is life!—
Joy in being; hopes o'er-fillingThe blessed to-day with to-morrow,Faith, the queenly, that rules all hap;
Love, the ever-compassionate,The dear love of man and of woman,That affection whose sweets hide no sting!
O bitter! that ever the heart,Still asking impossible treasure,Should cast from it aught that is loving!
