The sun looked from his everlasting skies, He laughed into my daily-dying eyes; He said to me, the brutal shining Sun: “Poor, fretful, hot, rebellious, little one! “Thou shalt not find it, yet there shall be truth; Thou shalt grow old, but yet there shall be youth; Thou shalt not do, yet great deeds shall be done,— Believe me, child, I am an old, old Sun! “Thou mayst go blind, yet fair will bloom the spring; Thou mayst not hear them, but the birds will sing; Thou mayst despair, no less will hope be rife; Thou must lie dead, but many will have life. “Thou mayst declare of love: it is a dream! Yet long with love, my love, the Earth will teem: Let not thy foolish heart be borne so low,— Lift up thy heart! Exult that it is so!”
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