EVE ON THE HILL
Dreary the horn sounds in the eve on the hill,
Sheepflocks return, stars on their way
twinkle still,
Watersprings weep murmuring clear, and
I see
Under a tree, love, thou art waiting
for me.
Holy and pure passes the moon on the sky,
Moist seem the stars born from the
vault clear and high,
Longing thine eyes look from afar to
divine,
Heaving thy breast, pensive thy head
doth recline.
Tired with their toil, peasants come back from the field,
From the old church, labourer's comfort
and shield,
Voices of bells thrill the whole sky
high above;
Struck is my heart, trembling and
burning with love.
Ah! very soon quietness steals over all,
Ah! very soon hasten shall I to thy
call,
Under the tree, there I shall sit the
whole night,
Telling thee, love, thou art my only
delight.
Cheek
press'd to cheek, there in sweet ecstasy we,
Falling asleep under the old
locust-tree,
Smiling in dream, seem in a heaven to live,
For such a night who his whole life
would not give?
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