Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. ALFRED TENNYSON. THE PASSAGE. MANY a year is in its grave And the evening, fair as ever. 360 THE PASSAGE. Then, in this same boat beside, One on earth in silence wrought, So, whene'er I turn my eye Saddening thoughts of friends come o'er me, But what binds us, friend to friend, Let us walk in soul once more. Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee: For, invisible to thee, Spirits twain have crossed with ine. Anonymous Translation. JOHANN LUDWIG UHLAND. (German.) |