Classic Poem

Hope! thou yet shalt live to see
All the spring's returning joys.
Know'st thou not, thus every tree
Hopes, when autumn wind destroys,
That the bleak long winter through,
In their strength its buds may rest;
Till the sap shall start anew,
And with bright, new green 'tis drest?

“Ah! I am no sturdy tree,
That a thousand summers lives;
Dreamed each winter dream will be,
Spring then fresh bright verdure gives.
But a lowly flower am I,
Called to life by kiss of May
When beneath the snows I lie
Every trace has passed away.”

Since thou, then, a flow'ret be—
Modest is thy mind indeed—
Let this knowledge comfort thee,
All that blossom carry seed;
Let the death storm far and near
Scatter then thy pollen-gold,
From thy seed shalt thou appear,
Self-renewed—a hundredfold.

“Yes, when time myself shall glean,
Like myself shall others rise;
Thus the whole is ever green,
'Tis the single one that dies.
If what I was, now are they,
Then am I myself no more;
Thus I only live to-day,
Naught behind me, naught before.

“That the sunbeam they receive
Is the same that shines on me,
My hard lot does not relieve,
Doomed to night's eternity.
Sun! whose tender glances now
From afar toward them I see,
Why, with chilling scorn, dost thou
Smile from out yon cloud on me?

“Woe! that I should trust in thee,
When thy rays I first did feel;
In thine eyes still gazing be,
Until thou my life dost steal;
Its poor remnant I'll withdraw
From thy cruel sympathy,
And, with feverish firmness, draw
Self in self and fly from thee.

“But my fury and my strife
Melted into tears, oh see!
Take, oh take, my fleeting life
Everlasting! up to thee!
All that has my soul so grieved,
Thou wilt suffer there no more;
All that from thee I received,
Dying, now, I thank thee for.”

“Ev'ry morning breeze that blew,
Quiv'ring me the summer long;
Ev'ry insect bright that flew,
Hov'ring near with dance and song;
Eyes my beauty made more bright,
Hearts my fragrance made more glad,—
Such my mission in thy sight;
Thou, for all, my thanks hast had.

“Of thy world an ornament,
Though but small the share I gain;
I to deck this field was sent,
As the stars the higher plain.
But one breath is left to me,
And no sigh shall it be found;
My last glance to heaven shall be,
And the lovely world around.

“Endless fire-heart of this globe!
Let me now expire on thee.
Heaven, spread thine azure robe;
Mine, all faded, sinks with me.
Hail, O Spring! thy glowing sky;
Hail, O Morning Star! thy breath;
Griefless, down to sleep I lie,
Hopeless still to rise from death.”