Far off, with dreamy murmuring,
The wind piped through the reeds.
Once, twice, the brimming cup I raised
With trembling finger-tips,
And in its limpid crystal gazed,
Nor laid it to my lips.
Ah me! the eager heart-desires,
So thronging swift they came,
My spirit surged like wind-swept fires,
I knew not which to name.