A Fable
A FABLE.
SILENT and sunny was the way
Where Youth and I danced on together:
So winding and embowered o'er,
We could not see one rood before.
Nevertheless all merrily
We bounded onward,
Youth and I,
Leashed closely in a silken tether: (Well-a-day, well-a-day!)
Ah Youth, ah Youth, but I would fain
See thy sweet foolish face again! It came to pass, one morn of
May, All in a swoon of golden weather,
That I through green leaves fluttering
Saw Joy uprise on Psyche wing:
Eagerly, too eagerly We followed after
Youth and I Till suddenly he slipped the tether: (Well-a-day, well-a-day!)
“Where art thou, Youth?” I cried. In vain;
He never more came hack again.
Yet onward through the devious way In rain or shine, I recked not whether,
Like many another maddened boy I tracked my
Psyche-winged Joy; Till, curving round the bowery lane,
Lo—in the pathway stood pale Pain, And we met face to face together: (Well-a-day, well-a-day!)
“Whence comest thou?” -and I writhed in vain—“
Unloose thy cruel grasp, O Pain!” But he would not.
Since, day by day He has ta'en up
Youth's silken tether
And changed it into iron bands. So through rich vales and barren lands
Solemnly, all solemnly March we united, he and I; And we have grown such friends together (Well-a-day, well-a-day!)
I and this my brother Pain, I think we'll never part again.
SILENT and sunny was the way
Where Youth and I danced on together:
So winding and embowered o'er,
We could not see one rood before.
Nevertheless all merrily
We bounded onward,
Youth and I,
Leashed closely in a silken tether: (Well-a-day, well-a-day!)
Ah Youth, ah Youth, but I would fain
See thy sweet foolish face again! It came to pass, one morn of
May, All in a swoon of golden weather,
That I through green leaves fluttering
Saw Joy uprise on Psyche wing:
Eagerly, too eagerly We followed after
Youth and I Till suddenly he slipped the tether: (Well-a-day, well-a-day!)
“Where art thou, Youth?” I cried. In vain;
He never more came hack again.
Yet onward through the devious way In rain or shine, I recked not whether,
Like many another maddened boy I tracked my
Psyche-winged Joy; Till, curving round the bowery lane,
Lo—in the pathway stood pale Pain, And we met face to face together: (Well-a-day, well-a-day!)
“Whence comest thou?” -and I writhed in vain—“
Unloose thy cruel grasp, O Pain!” But he would not.
Since, day by day He has ta'en up
Youth's silken tether
And changed it into iron bands. So through rich vales and barren lands
Solemnly, all solemnly March we united, he and I; And we have grown such friends together (Well-a-day, well-a-day!)
I and this my brother Pain, I think we'll never part again.
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