Summer ebbs; each day that follows Tending to the darksome hollows He who governs the creation, Yet we mark it not; fruits redden, Be thou wiser, youthful Maiden! Now, even now, ere wrapped in slumber, Fix thy thoughts upon the sea That absorbs time, space, and number; Look towards Eternity! Follow thou the flowing river On whose breast are thither borne Through the year's successive portals; Through the bounds which many a star Marks, not mindless of frail mortals, When his light returns from far. Thus when thou with Time hast travelled Toward the mighty gulf of things, And the mazy stream unravelled With thy best imaginings; Think, if thou on beauty leanest, Duty, like a strict preceptor, Sometimes frowns, or seems to frown; Grasp it, if thou shrink and tremble, And ensures those palms of honour |