Title

Ballad of the Outer Life

1

And children grow with deeply wondering eyes

That know of nothing, grow a while and die,

And every one of us goes his own way.

And bitter bruit will sweeten by and by

5

And like dead birds come hurtling down at night,

And in a few days fester where they lie.

And always the wind blows, and we recite

And hear again the phrases thin with wear

And in our limbs feel languor or delight.

10

And roads run through the grass, and here and there

Are places full of lights and pools and trees,

And some are threatening, some are cold and bare . . .

To what end were they built? With differences

No less innumerable than their names?

15

Why laughter now, now weeping or disease?

What does it profit us, and all these games,

Who, great and lonely, ever shall be so,

And though we wander seek no aims?

To see such things do travellers leave their homes?

20

Yet he says much who utters "evening,"

A word from which grave thought and sadness flow

Like rich dark honey from the hollow combs.

Trans. Hamburger