  (AFTER THE FRENCH OF VERLAINE) The sky is blue above the roof, So calm, so blue; One rustling bough above the roof Rocks, the noon through. The bell-tower in the sky, aloof, Tenderly rings! A bird upon the bough, aloof, Sorrows and sings. My God, my God, and life is here So simple and still! Far off, the murmuring town I hear At the wind's will.... What hast thou done, thou, weeping there? O quick, the truth! What hast thou done, thou, weeping there, With thy lost youth? |
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