What dost thou think of life to-day?
Beautiful lake, so smooth and clear,
Thou hast caused the falling of many a tear;
For in thy dark and strong embrace
Lies many a well remembered face.
Only the Infinite and thou
Canst tell where rest these loved forms now;
But what matters it where the form may be
Since the spirit has risen unfettered and free?
This thou wert powerless to enfold,