Love's embracing, tender kisses,
Of young mother's joyous dreaming
As she leans o'er baby's cradle.
And it sounds like winds abreathing
As they slumber in the blossoms,
Or relate their olden fables
'twixt the bull rush in the moonlight.
About life sings faithful comrade;
Sings about fair lady's beauty,
Sings about her charms so tempting,
Sings of tournaments, carousals,
And of serenades at moonlight.
And it sounds as hollow metals
Or as bugle's joyous flourish,
As a song beneath the window,
Or in fields the skylark's longing.
About life sings faithful comrade;
Sings about soul's youthful dreaming,
Sings of yearning, futile wishes,
Of young days so often squandered,
Sings of life, when all its flowers
Have been singed by flames of passion.
And it sounds as night owls' hooting,
As its crying and complaining,
As the tempest howls, when autumn
Flies through fog across the stubble.
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