By Menec’hi Shore.
LOUIS TIERCELIN
Sad the sea-moan that echoes through my dream,
And sad the auroral sky suffused with gold,
Sad the blue wave that croons along the shore—
O Joy of Night in whose still calms I sleep!
Sadness of love, and O tired heart of man:
Sadness of hope, and all brave vows that be:
Sadness of joy itself, the joys we know!
Joy of Oblivion, is there bliss with thee?
Sad is the splendour, glory, the bright flame
And laughter of the soul, since underneath
Dreams and Desires veiled Mystery broods obscure...
O Joy of Death, with thee the Vials of Peace!