THE YOUTH OF MAN. WE, O Nature, depart, Thou survivest us! this, This, I know, is the law. Yes! but more than this, Thou who seest us die Seest us change while we live; Seest our dreams, one by one, Seest our errors depart; Watchest us, Nature! throughout, Mild and inscrutably calm. Well for us that we change! Behold, O Nature, this pair! See them to-night where they stand, Crowning their brows with its light, Not with the sunshine of hope, Not with the rapture of spring, Which they had of old, when they stood Years ago at my side In this self-same garden, and said: "We are young, and the world is ours; Man, man is the king of the world! Who prate of Nature! for she Hath neither beauty, nor warmth, Nor life, nor emotion, nor power. Lives in our eyes which can paint, Lives in our hearts which can feel." Thou, O Nature, wast mute, Mute as of old! days flew, Days and years; and Time With the ceaseless stroke of his wings Brush'd off the bloom from their soul. Clouded and dim grew their eye, Languid their heart-for youth Quicken'd its pulses no more. Of an ever-narrowing world, They droop'd, they grew blind, they grew old. Thee and their youth in thee, Nature they saw no more. Murmur of living, Stir of existence, Soul of the world! Make, oh, make yourselves felt To the dying spirit of youth! Come, like the breath of the spring! Leave not a human soul To grow old in darkness and pain! Only the living can feel you, But leave us not while we live! Here they stand to-night Here, where this grey balustrade Crowns the still valley; behind Is the castled house, with its woods, Which shelter'd their childhood-the sun On its ivied windows; a scent From the grey-wall'd gardens, a breath Of the fragrant stock and the pink, Their children play on the lawns. From a distant farm in the hills. Nothing besides! in front The wide, wide valley outspreads In the twilight, and bathed in dew, Darkening fast; but a light, Far off, a glory of day, Still plays on the city spires; And there in the dusk by the walls, With the grey mist marking its course Through the silent, flowery land, On, to the plains, to the sea, Floats the imperial stream. Well I know what they feel! They gaze, and the evening wind Plays on their faces; they gazeAirs from the Eden of youth Awake and stir in their soul; The past returns-they feel What they are, alas! what they were. They, not Nature, are changed. Well I know what they feel! Hush, for tears Begin to steal to their eyes! Hush, for fruit Grows from such sorrow as theirs! And they remember, With piercing, untold anguish, And they feel how Nature was fair. And the mists of delusion, And the scales of habit, Fall away from their eyes; And they see, for a moment, |