SAT EST VIXISSE.
I.To have lived!To have felt a quickened beatOf the heart in spring;To have known that something sweetMoved the birds to sing;To have seen dim waves of heatO’er a field of green retreat!II.To have found the hiding-placeOf the wild wood rose;To have held, a little space,Any flower that grows;To have known a moment’s graceLooking in a loved one’s faceTo have lived, to have lived!III.Still, doth it suffice aloneThat the world is fair?O’er what fields have these hands sown?Are they gold or bare?And though all the flowers are flown,If to God my heart is known,Then shall I in truth be shownHow to live, why to live!
I.To have lived!To have felt a quickened beatOf the heart in spring;To have known that something sweetMoved the birds to sing;To have seen dim waves of heatO’er a field of green retreat!II.To have found the hiding-placeOf the wild wood rose;To have held, a little space,Any flower that grows;To have known a moment’s graceLooking in a loved one’s faceTo have lived, to have lived!III.Still, doth it suffice aloneThat the world is fair?O’er what fields have these hands sown?Are they gold or bare?And though all the flowers are flown,If to God my heart is known,Then shall I in truth be shownHow to live, why to live!
I.
To have lived!To have felt a quickened beatOf the heart in spring;To have known that something sweetMoved the birds to sing;To have seen dim waves of heatO’er a field of green retreat!
To have lived!
To have felt a quickened beat
Of the heart in spring;
To have known that something sweet
Moved the birds to sing;
To have seen dim waves of heat
O’er a field of green retreat!
II.
To have found the hiding-placeOf the wild wood rose;To have held, a little space,Any flower that grows;To have known a moment’s graceLooking in a loved one’s faceTo have lived, to have lived!
To have found the hiding-place
Of the wild wood rose;
To have held, a little space,
Any flower that grows;
To have known a moment’s grace
Looking in a loved one’s face
To have lived, to have lived!
III.
Still, doth it suffice aloneThat the world is fair?O’er what fields have these hands sown?Are they gold or bare?And though all the flowers are flown,If to God my heart is known,Then shall I in truth be shownHow to live, why to live!
Still, doth it suffice alone
That the world is fair?
O’er what fields have these hands sown?
Are they gold or bare?
And though all the flowers are flown,
If to God my heart is known,
Then shall I in truth be shown
How to live, why to live!