TO THE DEPARTING YEAR 1855.
FAREWELL! and though thou tak'st not with thee all
The weight of sorrow thou brought'st with thee, coming,
But ták'st instead some of my bodily strength,
Sóme of my látest dárk hairs and skin's freshness,
Yet gó in peace; for thou hast left untouched
My nóbler part, and what thou 'st taken from me
In thew and color, paid me in my child,
I cannot say with an illiberal hand.
Gó then in peace; I'll think of thee at times,
Perhaps at times regret thee
CARLSRUHE, Dec. 30, 1855.*
TO THE COMING YEAR 185 6.
THOU 'rt welcome, stránger! enter, and the place
Fill, while thou stáy'st, of thy depárted brother;
Not wholly good was he, nor whólly bád,
A mixture like myself of strong and weak,
Of worse and bétter; but no more of him,
He's gone not to return, and thou com'st now
With thy fair prómises of perfect goodness.
Well well, we 'll see; thou too shalt have thy trial,
And when we come to part that will be knowledge
Which now 's no more than mingled hope and fear;
Meanwhile step in, and lét 's be better acquainted.
CARLSRUHE, Dec. 30, 1855.
ART thou happy? look not backward
Ón the joys thou 'st left behind thee;
Árt thou happy? look not forward
To the end of áll joy cóming.
Árt thou wrétched? thén look backward
Ón the pain thou 'st left for ever;
Árt thou wretched? then look forward
Tó the end of áll pain cóming.
Árt thou happy bóth and wrétched,
Look about thee, round on áll sides;
What seest thoú but others like thee,
Wrétched pártly, pártly happy?
Without Happy there's no Wretched,
Without Wretched thére 's no Happy;
There's a trué Heaven ánd a trué Hell,
Ánd thou hast them bóth alreády.
ON READING GOETHE'S ELEGIES.
Goethe! I knew not until today
Thou wast given to migrate out of thy fair palace
And take thy lodging in a filthy sty
Fie, Goethe! from henceforth we 're less good friends;
And yet ere now I have at times suspected
Thou wást not áll gold, often missed in thee
The cláng of the pure metal, often spied
The dusk hue of the copper at thy rim.
Perhaps even therefore art thou the more current,
For not who has féwest faults or greatest virtues
Álways most pleases, but whose mind to ours
Closest assimilates; perhaps even therefore
Hast thou attracted so the not too fine
Discérning, or requiring, princely eye,
And by the princely eye been so attracted
A sócio nóscitur, and like to like
And in more courts than Weimar's have been blended * The odours of the sty and the parterre.
THE FIRST ROSE OF SUMMER.
AIR: "The Last Rose of Summer."
'Tis the first rose of summer, shy peéping half-blówn,
And scárcely quite súre yet, the cold winter 's góne;
Fear nothing, new cómer; there 's nó danger nigh
Every day the air 's sófter, and brighter the sky.
Thou shalt not long hang lónely, shalt nót long thy bloom
Singly spread to the sún, singly shéd thy perfume,
For I see yonder cóming, like theé fresh and fair,
Thy sisters in clústers to adórn the partérre.
With them bloom together, with them fade and dié;
And só, lovely róse, may my heart's friends and Í,
When we 've happy together the lóng summer pássed,
Together drop into the earth's lap at lást.
YE álmost máke a Gód of Sól,
Who bút by dáy gives light;
What worthy praise have yé for mé,
Who into day turn night?
CARLSRUHE, Jan. 27, 1856.
|