Song of the wave / George Cabot Lodge [electronic text]

"WAS HAT MAN DIR, DU ARMES KIND, GETHAN?"

WEEP nevermore again! The wind's wild footstep thrills the leaves with pain; Then desert silence, then the scattered cries Of frail-voiced children, then within thy heart A sense of falling leaves through gray linked rain, Of perished youth with grave prophetic eyes And strange scant visions of a hopeless past; A sense of life no older than thou art, And in thy soul, of bright tears falling fast— Hush! tired child, weep nevermore again.