Page:Poems Allen.djvu/227

Too many clusters break the vine:
            Ich bin dein!
The tree whose strength and life outpour
 In one exultant blossom-gush
Must flowerless be forevermore:
 We walk this way but once, friend;—hush!
Our feet have left no trodden line:
            Ich bin din!

Who heaps his goblet wastes his wine:
            Ich bin dein!
The boat is moving from the land;—
 I have no chiding and no tears;—
Now give me back my empty hand
 To battle with the cruel years,—
Behold, the triumph shall be mine!
            Ich bin dein!