JUVENILIA. CLARIBEL. A MELODY. I. When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting? Never, oh! never, nothing will die ; The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die; 'Tis the world's winter ; Here and there, And the ground Shall be fill'd with life anew. The world was never made; Ever will be Thro' eternity. Nothing was born; Nothing will die; All things will change. |