In the Black Forest

I lay beneath the pine trees, And looked aloft, where, through The dusky, clustered tree-tops, Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue.

I shut my eyes, and a fancy Fluttered my sense around: "I lie here dead and buried, And this is churchyard ground.

"I am at rest for ever; Ended the stress and strife." Straight I fell to and sorrowed For the pitiful past life.

Right wronged, and knowledge wasted; Wise labour spurned for ease; The sloth and the sin and the failure; Did I grow sad for these?

They had made me sad so often; Not now they made me sad; My heart was full of sorrow For joy it never had.