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The old lime-tree shading spread
Its dense foliage with sweet flowers,
Stretched a branch to catch her arms
And to lift her full of charms,
Ready to rain fragrant showers
On her head.
And the spring asked woefully:
„Where art thou, my Queen most sweet?
Come, unbind thy silken hair,
Mirroring thy face so fair,
Touching me with tender feet,
Dreamily.“
And I answered: „Forest mine,
She comes not, she comes no more;
You alone, dear oaks, remain,
Wait for those blue eyes again,
That for me so oft of yore
Bright would shine.“
How much charm did she impart
To the groves, all things, that shone
As in an enchanted tale!
All is now so dark and stale…
Come, let’s be again alone
Heart to heart.
