THE VIRGINITY OF THE HEART

Translated from Théophile Gautier, by Sir Tollemache Sinclair. The heart's virginity is gone, alas, too soon. Bright dreams, dear plans of bliss, and of fond love so gay Illusions bright of life's morn, heaven's most cheering boon, Why do you not last to the end of e'en one day ? Why ? See you not that the dried dew, when midday's past, No longer kisses with its silvery pearls the flowers, That the entrancing rose struck by an icy blast, Loses its brilliant colours in the evening hours? Do we not see that a spring, limpid at its source, . In passing through the mud has lost its purity. That in a sky serene a cloud in its swift course Does soon obscure its brightness and serenity. The world's made thus supreme, 'tis hidden in a haze, Like shadows in a dream, — ah soon, — 'spite of our tears. That which charms leaves us, that which causes us pain stays. The rose lives for an hour, — the cypress, endless years I