The maiden stood beside the sea, Her sigh was long, her gaze forlorn; So moved was she by sunset’s plea, Her heart with gentle ache was torn. O maiden fair, be of good cheer— ’Tis but the ancient sun’s descent; She sets before thee, golden near, From yonder side shall she be sent. Gaze not so sadly on the light That sinks beyond the western brink; For though it vanish from thy sight, It rises where the shadows sink. Lift up thy heart! Let evening’s hue Not fill thine eyes with sorrow; For all that leaves returns anew— The sun brings forth tomorrow. The world is full of ebb and flow, Of partings and returnings; Though day to night be fast laid low, Hope in thy bosom burning. The sunset’s glow, an age-old dream, Seemed sorrow’s gentle token; Yet life, though darker things may seem, Oft gives what once was broken. Sweet maiden, sing! The day will bend And sunlight crown thy morrow; Though now it seems all things must end— There is no endless sorrow. The sea may swallow up the light, The heart in gloom may languish— Yet never doth it die in night: The dawn forgets thy anguish.
