Poems (Hooper)/Autumnal Musings
AUTUMNAL MUSINGS.
O wär 'es blos der Wange PrachtDie mit den Jahren flieht.
Would it were but the bloom of youth That doth with years depart!Alas, too fades, oh, mournful thought! The freshness of the heart.
How dies the voice of Youth away! The glance grows dim, unmoved,And the warm heart, that once so throbbed, Forgets e'en that it loved.
Though freely from our daring lips May wit and jesting flow,'Tis only like the mocking green That over graves doth grow.
The night comes—with the night comes grief; The mockery is o'er:Tears, tears alone can bless our hearts, And tears we find no more.
We are so poor, we are so sad, And why we scarce can deem;We only know our hearts are dead, And joy is but a dream.Geibel.