Our lips are laughing while our eyes are wet;
The happiness we hope, the grief we fear,
The stress and anguish that our moments bear,
Are trivial shadows that our lives forget.
The day's despairing toil and passion's fret
Evanish utterly like empty words;
What was has never been; the past affords
Only a heritage of divine regret.
But whiles the sorrow of a sleeping face
Awakes a deeper pity not our own,
Or when the soul in Beauty's large embrace
Forsakes its margined slumber, we may grow
To greater moments, when we stand alone
And feel that life is sadder than we know.