Paean To Joy

Not for me the bogs and the marshes,
And not for me the slow sad world's decline.
For me the verdant faeryland's marches,
And for me elation stolen from time.

Not for me the arid desert places,
And not for me ground baked bleak by sunstorm.
For me the forests full of wind's graces,
And for me light brilliant as it is warm.

Not for me the grief and world-wide mourning,
And not for me water stained with warm blood.
For me all the radiance of morning,
And for me the ocean's waters in flood.

Not for me the sad wrack, drifting seaweed,
And not for me black guilt crushing out breath.
For me the foam over which light can speed,
And for me a life more joyous than death.

Not for me wrath from the high heavens sent,
And not for me fear of emotions above.
For me sorrow in pure ringing lament,
And for me dark hatred, for me bright love.