Would I might those early blessings,
Ah, for but one hour hold fast!
But the west wind shakes the blossoms
Raining down in its warm blast.
Should I thank the leaves that follow
For their green shade’s welcome pall?
Soon enough, now fallow-yellow,
Storms will ravage them in Fall.
Fruit is grasped before it’s gotten:
Quickly haste to take your share!
Now it’s ripe, and now it’s rotten,
Others germinate right there;
Your sweet valley’s changed forever
Every time it showers with rain;
And in the river, never never
Can you ever swim again.
As for you!—that rock-bound fastness
Seems now to materialize—
Rampart, palace, see its vastness
Evermore with changing eyes.
Vanished are the lips of sweetness
That once pleasured in a kiss,
Daring feet that tried their featness
Goatlike on the precipice;
Hand that eager in its motion
Moved to the unselfish act—
Now is quite another fact.
What supplants your former being
Claiming for itself your name,
Like a wave forever fleeing
Came, and passes, just the same.
Let the end and the beginning
Merge themselves, then, into one!
Swifter than the time-world’s spinning
Fly, for flying’s never done.
Thank the muses for their lessons
Promising the unmarred whole:
In your heart the unchanged essence,
And the pure form in your soul.
1803