2. SONGS.
1.
Every morning rise I, crying:
Comes my love to-day?
Then sink down at evening, sighing:
She is still away!
Sleepless and oppress’d with sorrow,
All night long I lie
Dreaming, half asleep; the morrow
Sadly wander I.
2.
I’m driven hither and thither along!
But yet a few hours, I shall see her again,
Herself, the most fair of the fair maiden-train;—
True heart, what means thy throbbing so strong?
The hours are only a slothful race!
Lazily they move each day,
And with yawning go their way;—
Hasten on, ye slothful race!
Wild-raging eagerness thrills me indeed;
Never in love have the hours delighted;
So, in a cruel bond strangely united,
Slily deride they the lovers’ wild speed.
3.
By nought but sorrow attended,
I wander’d under the trees;
That olden vision descended,
And stole to my heart by degrees.