Page:Three stories by Vítězslav Hálek (1886).pdf/130

 If all the sweet delights of life

Should turn to dreary slaving,

And only love were left to cheer

Still life were worth the having.

If truth were everything on earth

And love were only dreaming,

I’d shun this waking life and plunge

In dreams were love was beaming.

And granted it were all a dream

Still ever I’d remember,

That sweet fond dream, that shed a beam,

O’er waking life’s November.

Dark as is heaven’s blue azure vault

So golden is the starlight,

Strange fancies fill the heart of him

Who gazes on that far light

Of star dust, eddying far and far

Beyond the range of seeing,

Where yet not one small star reveals

The secret of its being.

Only when in two virgin hearts

Love’s earliest breath is breathing,

Yon heaven, ’tis said, another star

Among her orbs is wreathing.