The Lake And so, driven on ceaselessly toward new shores, carried beyond return into eternal darkness, shall we never cast anchor for a single day in the ocean of time? O lake! the year has scarce run its course, and by the cherished waves that she was meant to see again, see now! I come alone to sit upon this stone where you saw her sit! One evening, do you remember? We were sailing in silence, hearing over the waters and beneath the heavens only the distant rhythmic beat of oarsmen on your harmonious waves. Suddenly, a voice, its strains unknown on earth, struck echoes from the enchanted shore; the waters listened, and the voice which is precious to me spoke these words: "O time, suspend your flight! and you, fortunate hours, stay your journey! Let us savour the fleeting delights of the finest of our days. Let us love, then, let us love! be quick to enjoy the fleeting hour! Mankind has no harbour, time has no shore; it flows, and we pass on!" O lake! wordless rocks! caves! dark forest! You who are untouched or made young again by time, cherish, fair nature, cherish at least the memory of that night. Let the moaning wind, the sighing reed, the gentle scents of your fragrant air, let all that is heard, seen or breathed, let all say: "They have loved!" By Alphonce de Lamartine
Posted on: Mon, 10 Jun 2013 03:17:33 +0000
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