Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/132

128 And the lark in the tempest
 * Its song is flinging,

As o'er a dark forest
 * A star were singing.

Lo the sun and the spring-tide,
 * Lo verdant May;

Once again 'tis returning,
 * With its dreamy lay.

O spring-tide, O May-tide,
 * O the sounds that take flight;

How the earth has grown youthful,
 * And the air full of might!

On all sides what brightness,
 * And around me what gladness;

But grief in my bosom,
 * And sorrow and sadness.

My love that is loveless,
 * Is bleeding in anguish;

Ne'er returneth my May-tide,
 * In the grave it doth languish.

"" (1907).