No solace could it bring;--for then far less
Might I reveal the sorrow of my soul!
A helpless maiden's tears like raindrops fall,
Which in a July night, ere harvest-time,
Bedew the flowers, and, trembling, stand within
Their half-closed eyes unnumbered and unknown.
[She rises.]
Yet One there is, who counts the maiden's tears;--
But when will their sad number be fulfilled?--
[Walking to and fro.]