Attainment
The robin, in the twilight clear,
Sitteth not silent with delight
Because his song was sweet last year
Or e'en last night.
The woodland doth not linger still
Dreaming of last year's bloom; its blood
Moves forth, with many a stir and thrill
To coming bud.
Each wakening song and glint of green
And Earth's new blossom crieth: " See,
Life's measure is not what hath been,
But what may be! "
Sitteth not silent with delight
Because his song was sweet last year
Or e'en last night.
The woodland doth not linger still
Dreaming of last year's bloom; its blood
Moves forth, with many a stir and thrill
To coming bud.
Each wakening song and glint of green
And Earth's new blossom crieth: " See,
Life's measure is not what hath been,
But what may be! "
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