In the Black Forest
I lay beneath the pine trees,And looked aloft, where, throughThe dusky, clustered tree-tops,Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue.
I shut my eyes, and a fancyFluttered my sense around:"I lie here dead and buried,And this is churchyard ground.
"I am at rest for ever;Ended the stress and strife."Straight I fell to and sorrowedFor the pitiful past life.
Right wronged, and knowledge wasted;Wise labour spurned for ease;The sloth and the sin and the failure;Did I grow sad for these?
They had made me sad so often;Not now they made me sad;My heart was full of sorrowFor joy it never had.
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