83 (for what great reward)

FOR WHAT GREAT reward of my merit,

O Beautiful,

had I, a meadow-flower, once taken my place

in the chain on thy neck?

The newly-wakened eyes of the earth

were glad on that day,

and the lute, at the touch of the Ever-new,

broke out in melodies of dawn.

If that flower fades and drops to the earth

at the dim hour of the day,

when the bird's songs are languid,

let the evening wind sweep it away across the dark,

following thy departing steps,

never leaving it to be trodden to the dust

by the careless moments.