Long is now the winter evening,
Fain would I disperse its gloom,
Sitting by thee, talking with thee
In thy trusty little room.
To my lips I’d fain be pressing
Thy dear little snowy hand,
With my falling tears caressing
Thy dear little snowy hand.
53.
Though outside snow-piles are forming,
Though ’tis hailing, though ’tis storming,
Rattling ’gainst the window-pane,
Nevermore will I complain,
For within my breast I bear
Spring-joys and love’s image fair.
54.
Some make prayers to the Madonna,
Others unto Paul and Peter;
Thee alone, of suns the fairest,
Thee alone will I e’er honour.
Let me be with kisses laden,
Be thou kindly, be thou gracious,
’Mongst all maidens sun the fairest,
’Neath the sun the fairest maiden!
55.
Did not my pallid face betray
My loving woe unto thee?
And wilt thou that my haughty mouth
With begging words shall woo thee?
Alas! this mouth is far too proud,
’Twas made but for kissing and sighing;
Perchance it may speak a scornful word,
While I with sorrow am dying.