178
POEMS OF GOETHE
MENALCAS.
Let us haste, our footsteps blending
With the rhythm of the song!
Yes, they come; their course they're bending
Toward the wood's green sward so bright.
CHORUS,
[Gradually becoming louder.]
Yes, we hither come, attending
With the harmony of song,
As the hours their race are ending
On this day of blest delight.
ALL.
Let none reveal
The thoughts we feel,
The aims we own!
Let joy alone
Disclose the story!
She'll prove it right
And her delight
Includes the glory,
Includes the bliss
Of days like this!
