Ah! love’s pangs, that sweetly languish,
And love’s bitter joy, so blest,
Creep again, with heavenly anguish,
Into my scarce healèd breast.
13.
The eyes of spring, so azure,
Are peeping from the ground;
They are the darling violets,
That I in nosegays bound.
I pluck them, thinking deeply,
And all the thoughts so dear,
That in my heart are sighing,
The nightingale sings clear.
Yes, all my thoughts she singeth
And warbleth, echoing far;
So that my tender secrets
Known to the whole wood are.
14.
When thy dress doth gently touch me,
As thou pass’st before my face,
How my heart exults, how wildly
Follows it thy lovely trace!
Then thou turnest round and gazest
With thy large bright eyes on me,
And my heart doth feel so startled,
That it scarce can follow thee.
15.
The slender water-lily
Peeps dreamingly out of the lake;
The moon, oppress’d with love’s sorrow,
Looks tenderly down for her sake.