When I was one-and-twenty I heard a wise man say, "Give crowns and pounds and guineas but not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies but keep your fancy free." But I was one-and-twenty, No use to talk to me.
When I was one-and-twenty I heard him say again, "The heart out of the bosom Was never given in vain; 'Tis paid with sighs a plenty And sold for endless rue." And I am two-and-twenty, And oh, 'tis true, 'tis true.
White clouds engird the mountain. Stone steps climb to nothingness. Alone, the poet leans on his staff, gazing into the expanse, and accompanies the stream: bamboo flute joining murmurs of unseen flowing water.
I am no priest of crooks nor creeds, For human wants and human needs Are more to me than prophets' deeds; And human tears and human cares Affect me more than human prayers.
Go, cease your wail, lugubrious saint! You fret high Heaven with your plaint. Is this the "Christian's joy" you paint? Is this the Christian's boasted bliss? Avails your faith no more than this?
Take up your arms, come out with me, Let Heav'n alone; humanity Needs more and Heaven less from thee. With pity for mankind look 'round; Help them to rise -- and Heaven is found.
Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.
Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.
A noiseless patient spider, I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
Drunk, me and my boat float freely downriver. Unfortunately, I can't stay amid the flowers. Hazy waters sprawl; sun, countless mountains high. Red blossoms shower downward. I don't know how I got here.