So mightiest powers buy deepest calms are fed, And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be!
Touch us gently, Time! Let us glide adown thy stream Gently,-as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream!
Women are so gentle, so affectionate, so true in sorrow, so untired and untiring! but the leaf withers not sooner, and tropic light fades not more abruptly.
Enter upon thy paths, O year! Thy paths, which all who breathe must tread, Which lead the Living to the Dead, I enter; for it is my doom To tread thy labyrinthine gloom; To note who round me watch and wait; To love a few; perhaps to hate; And do all duties of my fate.
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