Poems (Waldenburg)/Chanson

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CHANSON. ALFRED DE MUSSET.
When the coquette, Hope, fair, frail and fleeting Gently touches us in passing by,Smiling while our own, her eyes are meeting Winning all the heart with witchery;
"Whither wilt thou go?" the heart imploreth, Thrilling with the visions that have come;Like the swallow that thro' ether soareth, By the fragrant south wind lured from home—
Hither, thither, fickle Hope to follow Like the swallow led from quiet range,So borne onward e'en he knows not whither, Flies the heart of man from change to change!
Hope enchantress! Dost thou know the way? Or do thy wandering footsteps seek to fleeThe arms of Fate who waiteth stern and gray, Who at the last shall surely capture thee!
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