Make us happy and you make us good.
Therefore I summon age / To grant youth's heritage.
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.
Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.
O never star Was lost; here We all aspire to heaven and there is heaven Above us. If I stoop Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud, It is but for a time; I press God's lamp Close to my breast; its splendor soon or late Will pierce the gloom. I shall emerge some day.
What a name! Was it love or praise? Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? I must learn Spanish, one of these days, Only for that slow sweet name's sake.