QUARE FATIGASTI 



Two years ago I was thinking 



On the changes that years bring forth ; 

 Now I stand where I then stood, drinking 



The gust and the salt sea-froth ; 

 And the shuddering wave strikes, linking 

 With the waves subsiding and sinking, 

 And clots the coast-herbage, shrinking, 



With a hue of the white cere-cloth. 



Is there ought worth losing or keeping ? 



The bitters or sweets men quaff? 

 The sowing or the doubtful reaping ? 



The harvest of grain or chaff? 

 Or squandering days or heaping, 

 Or waking seasons or sleeping, 

 The laughter that dries the weeping. 



Or the weeping that drowns the laugh ? 



For joys wax dim and woes deaden, 



We forget the sorrowful biers 



And the garlands glad that have fled in 



The merciful march of years ; 



And the sunny skies, and the leaden. 



And the faces that pale or redden. 



And the smiles that lovers are wed in 



Who are born and buried in tears. 

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