Say, will it, when our hairs are grey, And wintry suns half light the day, Which cheering hope and strengthening trust Have left, departed, turned to dust,— Say, will it soothe lone years to extract From fitful shows with sense exact Their sad residuum, small, of fact? Will trembling nerves their solace find In plain conclusions of the mind? Or errant fancies fond, that still To fretful motions prompt the will, Repose upon effect and cause, And action of unvarying laws, And human life’s familiar doom, And on the all-concluding tomb? Or were it to our kind and race, And our instructive selves, disgrace To wander then once more in you, Green fields, beneath the pleasant blue; To dream as we were used to dream, And let things be whate’er they seem? O feeble shapes of beggars grey That, tottering on the public way, Die out in doting, dim decay, Is it to you when all is past Our would-be wisdom turns at last? _SEHNSUCHT._ Whence are ye, vague desires, Which carry men along, However proud and strong; Which, having ruled to-day, To-morrow pass away? Whence are ye, vague desires? Whence are ye? Which women, yielding to, Find still so good and true; So true, so good to-day, To-morrow gone away, Whence are ye, vague desires? Whence are ye? From seats of bliss above, Where angels sing of love; From subtle airs around, Or from the vulgar ground, Whence are ye, vague desires? Whence are ye? A message from the blest, Or bodily unrest; A call to heavenly good, A fever in the blood: What are ye, vague desires? What are ye? Which men who know you best Are proof against the least, And rushing on to-day, To-morrow cast away. What are ye, vague desires? What are ye? Which women, ever new, Still warned, surrender to; Adored with you to-day, Then cast with you away, What are ye, vague desires? What are ye? Which unto boyhood’s heart The force of man impart, And pass, and leave it cold, And prematurely old, What are ye, vague desires? What are ye? Which, tremblingly confest, Pour in the young girl’s breast Joy, joy—the like is none, And leave her then undone— What are ye, vague desires? What are ye? Ah yet! though man be marred, Ignoble made, and hard; Though broken women lie In anguish down to die; Ah yet! ye vague desires, Ah yet! By Him who gave you birth, And blended you with earth, Was some good end designed For man and womankind; Ah yet! ye vague desires, Ah yet! The petals of to-day, To-morrow fallen away, Shall something leave instead, To live when they are dead; When you, ye vague desires, Have vanished;