et 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]

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!

[Illustration: SPRING'S AWAKENING _From the Painting by Ludwig von
Hofmann._]

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]

I'll breathe my soul and its secret
In the lily's chalice white;
The lily shall thrill and reecho
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]

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]

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 beloved and fair.

The violets titter, caressing,
Peeping up as the planets appear,
And the roses, their warm love confessing,
Whisper words, soft-perfumed, to each ear.

And, gracefully lurking or leaping,
The gentle gazelles come round:
While afar, deep rushing and sweeping,
The waves of the Ganges sound.

We'll lie there in slumber sinking
Neath the palm-trees by the stream,
Rapture and rest deep drinking,
Dreaming the happiest dream.

10[14]

The lotos flower is troubled
By the sun's too garish gleam,
She droops, and with folded petals
Awaiteth the night in a dream.

'Tis the moon has won her favor,
His light her spirit doth wake,
Her virgin bloom she unveileth
All gladly fo