Faint as the far-off murmur of the main?
Stoop low and hearken, Balder! List again!
“Lo! Death makes all things dark!”
Ay me, it is the earthborn souls that sigh,
Coming and going underneath the sky;
They move, they gather, clearer grows their cry—
O Balder, bend, and hark!...
(Oh, listen! listen!) “Blessed is the light,
We love the golden day, the silvern night, ...
“And yet though life is glad and love divine,