'Tis the moon has won her favor,
His light her spirit doth wake,
Her virgin bloom she unveileth
All gladly for his dear sake.
Unfolding and glowing and shining
She yearns toward his cloudy height;
She trembles to tears and to perfume
With pain of her love's delight.
[Illustration: FLOWER FANTASY Train the Painting by Ludwig von
Hofmann.]
11[15]
The Rhine's bright wave serenely
Reflects as it passes by
Cologne that lifts her queenly
Cathedral towers on high.
A picture hangs in the dome there,
On leather with gold bedight,
Whose beauty oft when I roam there
Sheds hope on my troubled night.
For cherubs and flowers are wreathing
Our Lady with tender grace;
Her eyes, cheeks, and lips half-breathing
Resemble my loved one's face.
12[16]
I am not wroth, my own lost love, although
My heart is breaking—wroth I am not, no!
For all thou dost in diamonds blaze, no ray
Of light into thy heart's night finds its way.
I saw thee in a dream. Oh, piteous sight!
I saw thy heart all empty, all in night;
I saw the serpent gnawing at thy heart;
I saw how wretched, O my love, thou art!