| Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! |
|
| And let the young lambs bound |
|
| As to the tabor's sound! |
|
| We in thought will join your throng, |
|
| Ye that pipe and ye that play, |
|
| Ye that through your hearts to-day |
|
| Feel the gladness of the May! |
|
| What though the radiance which was once so bright |
|
| Be now for ever taken from my sight, |
|
| Though nothing can bring back the hour |
|
| Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; |
|
| We will grieve not, rather find |
|
| Strength in what remains behind; |
|
| In the primal sympathy |
|
| Which having been must ever be; |
|
| In the soothing thoughts that spring |
|
| Out of human suffering; |
|
| In the faith that looks through death, |
|
| In years that bring the philosophic mind. |
