Why vex yourselves and us, the heavy stone
Up the steep path but step by step to roll?
It falls again, and ye ne'er cease to strive.
THE LOVERS.
But we are on the proper road alone!
If gladly is to thaw the frozen soul,
The fire of love must aye be kept alive.
1807─8. ——- CHARADE.
Two words there 'are, both short, of beauty rare,
Whose sounds our lips so often love to frame,