And maidens blush to say—
O Gretchen, meet me in the dell
We know and love, who love so well,
While morn is cold and gray!
So, match thy blushes to the dawn;
Thy bosom to the rising moon,
Until our loves to earth have drawn
Some new bewitching tune.
Come, Gretchen, in the dusk of day,
Where nymphs and dryads creep away