Little Lake
Thou little lonely mere?
Did some fair woman wistfully
Gaze in thy mirror clear?
Admiring the blue sky,
Where shining cloudlets, like thy foam,
Are drifting softly by?
I too am desolate;
I too would fain, beneath the sky,
In silence meditate.
As many thoughts are in my mind
As wavelets o'er thee roam;
As many wounds are in my heart
As thou hast flakes of foam.
Should drop into thy breast,
Thou still wouldst not be like my soul,—
A flame-sea without rest.
The clouds let fall no showers;
The stars that rise there do not set,
And fadeless are the flowers.
For e'en when ripples thrill
Thy surface, in thy quivering depths
Thou hold'st me, trembling, still.
"What has he but his lyre?"
"He trembles, and his face is pale;
His life must soon expire!"
If he beloved should be,
Haply he might not die, but live,—
Live, and grow fair to see."
None sought the boy's sad heart to read,
Nor in its depths to look.
They would have found it was a fire,
And not a printed book!
Grow stormy, little mere,
For a despairing man has gazed
Into thy waters clear!
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
| Original: |
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse |
|---|---|
| Translation: |
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929. The longest-living author of this work died in 1950, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 73 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse |
