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Brina

de Herbert Pixner Projekt

Tears idle tears I know not what they mean
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes
In looking on the happy autumn fields
And thinking of the days that are no more

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail
That brings our friends up from the under world
Sad as the last witch reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge
So sad so fresh the days that are no more

Dear as remembered kisses after death
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others deep as love

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