Contemplations V
For those kept up at night.
From the stars in the sky and the breath on the breeze,
To the eagles that fly round their mountainous trees,
To the dark oceans deeps and the sunniest vale,
To the ruins and keeps and their echoing pale,
To the loudest transgression or softest farewell,
To the din of aggression or quietest knell,
To the song on the lips of the lovers and bards,
To the dreams that eclipse what the frightened heart guards:
O, so much to enjoy, so much to understand:
’Tis the folly of joy, and the folly of man.
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