Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/126

 They also have to work themselves to death, And martyrize their golden forms. The bright haze we sometimes see is their breath, Which we vaguely call falling stars.

All the bright, fiery stars, That cluster round the moon. Once flew away from the sun To shine on our world like stars, But they were cradled in the sun.

All the bright, fiery stars, After their destined time, Must fly away from our sky, For the sun will be their grave, And there the gleaming stars shall die.

The voice of the prophet said, That all that live must also die. Oh, yes, we know ’tis truth he said— Before the world dies, we must die.

Whatever blooms will also fade— What comes to earth, must from earth go— The world’s poor knowledge, it will fade, Like any white rose that doth blow.

And so the thought of death should not Stab our poor weary human heart. We live, and outlive, ’tis our lot Examples to be, ’tis our part.

Before birth, we knew not the earth— Nor know we now its secret power. We cannot even know our earth— What know we of God’s mighty power.