…This funny game — this life — is full of things
We guess not of. A mocking bird that sings
At dawn, in June, above your windowsill,
Charming your waking fancies with its trill —
Will fly away, and you will never see
Why it had landed on the neighbor tree.
Better to keep things hidden than unmasked,
Lest answers startle, if the truth be asked;
Kinder to let the goldfish float below,
Than, having caught it, watch its life-light go;
Safer to leave the morning star unfound,
Than, having held it, shatter on the ground…
— Leave, and be gone along the open trail,
Don't watch the sun until its glories pale.
So I will wander on, and so will you,
Our feet still wet with early morning dew,
A endless day still glimmering ahead—
That speaks of warmth and often burrs instead.
… We both are humans. That's where really lies
My sympathy for you; and though our eyes
Have never met, we many times have seen
The other's eyes, not knowing what they mean.
Another life, passed by along the way,
Forgotten in a week, yet near today.
Let us be merry; though the blissful hours
May be but few in this here life of ours.
Let us be happy; though the fairy wand
Touches but seldom each unfailing hand…
