To non-existences Thou givest being. Why?
He who makes all things grow, can make them wither, too.
For He can all repair, as He can ruin woo.195
Each autumn, vegetation dwindles by His will;
Again ’tis He calls forth the flowers in dale, on hill.
His voice is heard: “Come forth, ye withered ones, anew;
Once more put on your beauty,—charm each mortal’s view.”
Narcissus’ eye was blinded; lo! its twinkle’s seen.
The reed, that down was mowed, becomes sweet music’s queen.
We are but creatures. To create we have no power.