Gladness
And sadness
And pensiveness blending
Yearning
And burning
In torment ne'er ending;
Sad unto death,
Proudly soaring above;
Happy alone
Is the soul that doth love!
FROM "WILHELM MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP."
BOOK II., CHAP. XIII.
WHO never eat with tears his bread,
Who never through night's heavy hours
Sat weeping on his lonely bed,—