Once more the many-coloured Being pales
And falls in ruin under its own breath:
Once more the all-encircling Spirit veils
Its glorious presence in a mask of death:
Once more the tide of life in this dear land
Ebbs to stagnation: while with stricken hearts
And eyes sad fixed upon its vacant strand,
We watch and watch, until our joy departs.
Once more we strive to gain from this high scene
Of tragic woe and deep significance,
A clue to what shall be from what hath been:
Striving with Thought that leaves the mind in trance
Deep-awed, because the living mystery
Seems to resign its life and cease to be.
|Photo taken by me on 11/2007, a local wood.|