Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering 'it will be happier'.
I wind about, and in and out, - With here a blossom sailing, - And here and there a lusty trout, - And here and there a grayling.
One so small Who knowing nothing knows but to obey.
Shape your heart to front the hour, but dream not that the hours will last.
Silence, beautiful voice.
I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, To holy virgins in their ecstasies.