Rejoice that man is hurled, From change to change unceasingly, His soul's wings never furled!

Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?

Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell!

A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.

Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed It's petals up.

Our interest's on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.