Читать книгу The Greatest German Classics (Vol. 1-14) - Various - Страница 68

Freely to breathe alone is not to live.

Say, is it life, within this holy fane,

Like a poor ghost around its sepulchre

To linger out my days? Or call you that

A life of conscious happiness and joy,

When every hour, dream'd listlessly away,

Still leadeth onward to those gloomy days,

Which the sad troop of the departed spend

In self-forgetfulness on Lethe's shore?

A useless life is but an early death;

This woman's destiny hath still been mine.