Let that man blush (if such a one there live)
Who knows thy maiden heart and loves thee not.
I would not be that man!
But if, in giving tongue to my dumb love,
I overstep the bounds of reverence,
Look down in pity on my poor mad heart;
And tell me gently that for man to hope
For more than sister-love from such as thou
Is more than man should dare—and I’ll believe it!
Gret. Gottfried, have mercy on me and be silent!