The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 06

My yearning, my aspiring.

2[6 - Translator: J.E. Wallis. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.]

Where'er my bitter tear-drops fall,
The fairest flowers arise;
And into choirs of nightingales
Are turned my bosom's sighs.

And wilt thou love me, thine shall be
The fairest flowers that spring,
And at thy window evermore
The nightingales shall sing.

3[7 - Translator: Richard Garnett. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.]

The rose and the lily, the moon and the dove,
Once loved I them all with a perfect love.
I love them no longer, I love alone
The Lovely, the Graceful, the Pure, the One
Who twines in one wreath all their beauty and love,
And rose is, and lily, and moon and dove.

4[8 - Translator: Alma Strettell. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.]

Dear, when I look into thine eyes,
My deepest sorrow straightway flies;
But when I kiss thy mouth, ah, then
No thought remains of bygone pain!

And when I lean upon thy breast,
No dream of heaven could be more blest;
But, when thou say'st thou lovest me,
I fall to weeping bitterly.

5[9 - Translator: Alma Strettell. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.]

Thy face, that fair, sweet face I know,
I dreamed of it awhile ago;
It is an angel's face, so mild—
And yet, so sadly pale, poor child!

Only the lips are rosy bright,
But soon cold Death will kiss them white,
And quench the light of Paradise
That shines from out those earnest eyes.

6[10 - Translator: Franklin Johnson. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.]

Lean close thy cheek against my cheek,
That our tears together may blend, love,
And press thy heart upon my heart,
That from both one flame may ascend, love!

And while in that flame so doubly bright
Our tears are falling and burning,
And while in my arms I clasp thee tight
I will die with love and yearning.

7[11 - Translator: J.E. Wallis. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.]

I'll breathe my soul and its secret
In the lily's chalice white;
The lily shall thrill and reëcho
A song of my heart's delight.

The song shall quiver and tremble,
Even as did the kiss
That her rosy lips once gave me
In a moment of wondrous bliss.

8[12 - Translator: T. Brooksbank. Permission William Heinemann, London.]

The stars have stood unmoving
Upon the heavenly plains
For ages, gazing each on each,
With all a lover's pains.

They speak a noble language,
Copious and rich and strong;
Yet none of your greatest schoolmen
Can understand that tongue.

But I have learnt it, and never
Can forget it for my part—
For I used as my only grammar
The face of the joy of my heart.

9[13 - Translator: Charles G. Leland. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.]

On the wings of song far sweeping,
Heart's dearest, with me thou'lt go
Away where the Ganges is creeping;
Its loveliest garden I know—

A garden where roses are burning
In the moonlight all silent there;
Where the lotus-flowers are yearning
For their sister belovèd and fair.