Gate that never wholly closes,
Opening yet so oft in vain!
Garden full of thorny roses!
Roses fall, and thorns remain

Wayward lamp, with flickering lustre
Shining far or shining near,
Seldom words of truth revealing,
Ever showing words of cheer.

Promise-breaker, yet unfailing!
Faithless flatterer! comrade true!
Only friend, when traitor proven,
Whom we always trust anew.

Courtier strange, whom triumph frighteth,
Flying far from pleasure's eye,
Who by sorrow's side alighteth
When all else are passing by

Syren-singer! ever chanting
Ditties new to burdens old;
Precious stone the sages sought for,
Turning everything to gold!

True philosopher! imparting
Comfort rich to spirits pained;
Chider of proud triumph's madness,
Pointing to the unattained!

Timid warrior! Doubt, arising,
Scares thee with the slightest breath;
Matchless chief! who, fear despising,
Tramples on the darts of death!

O'er the grave, past Time's pursuing,
Far thy flashing glory streams,
Too unswerving, too resplendent,
For a child of idle dreams.

Still, life's fitful vigil keeping,
Feed the flame and trim the light:
Hope's the lamp I'll take for sleeping
When I wish the world good-night.