—More is worth love, since it pleases me,
Than wealth with which I do not know what to do.
Wealth comes, and wealth it goes away,
Wealth serves for nothing.
Wealth passes like the yellow pears:
Love endures for ever.
More is worth a handful of love
Than an oven full of gold and silver.
Hymn to Sleep.
HERVÉ-NOËL LE BRETON
Keeper of the keys of Heaven,
Lingering near the starry Seven!
Guardian of the gates of Hell,
Hushed beneath thy drowsy spell!
Fold thy wings and come to me,
Sleep! thou soul’s euthanasy.
When the pilgrim of strange lore
Haunts thy pale phantasmal shore,
Dreams and absolution grant,
Priestess thou and hierophant!
Fold thy wings and come to me,
Sleep! thou soul’s euthanasy.
Builder of eternal towers!
Weaver of enchanted bowers!
Thou dost forge the fighter’s arms,
Thee the lover woos for charms:
Fold thy wings and come to me,
Sleep! thou soul’s euthanasy.
Thou dost soothe the virgin’s fears,
Thou dost staunch the widow’s tears,
Smooth the wrinkled brows of Care,
Still the cries of wild Despair:
Fold thy wings and come to me,
Sleep! thou soul’s euthanasy.