That they might come back unceasingly,
That they might be ever with us! —
The bright river, unfathomable,
The rare flower just opening,
The parrot of the verdant spring,
The willow-trees, the terrace,
The stranger from the dark hills,
The cup overflowing with clear wine
Oh, for life to be extended,
With no dead ashes of writing,
Amid the charms of the Natural —
Ah, who can compass it?