O heart, chant love's glad songs in joyful strain,For spirit lifts a gaze that knows no stain.
It wandered, waking forms beyond all count;I set them free—God guard their sacred fount.
I roamed the world with heart all hope's own child,A heart that stormed the earth both tame and wild.
I roamed by art's clear light, perchance to findPerfection—and to please both heart and mind.
I crossed the worlds at dawn and in the night;I feared not earth nor all its shadowed plight.
What say you, ever-complaining one, who stillCurse life, yet are her valley's son and hill?
You curse life, spending years in weary pain—Why not repose in bliss she might ordain?
You are Life—yes—Life is nothing saveA spirit roaming till it finds its grave.
Is Life but riddle, problem wrapped in gloom,Which soul compares unto its own deep womb?
A riddle seeking reason's sacrificeOn thought's altars—will you not pay the price?
What say you, searcher, ever probing stillThis mystery's recesses, vale and hill?
Who strove without hope, spirit reached despairThat you might trace upon her features there.
These arts you worship rise and bloom and growIn meaning's heights where lesser minds scarce go.
These sciences appear in varied dress;Thought knows not all their scope and vastness.
What was, has been—let there be no lament;Let Fate run on within her own intent.
Each day new hopes arise in proud array;Time laughs from hearts that call to yesterday.
O Time, forbear—for pleasant life in hopeIs perfume to the soul that helps it cope.
O heart, chant songs of wish in joyous tone;Perchance you'll heal the hearts you grieve alone.
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