s, forsooth,
In words he won't be telling.
Hurrah! is all that he will say,
How lovely is the month of May,
Dear love, I send thee greeting!"

The sounds are heard, are borne along
By the river downward flowing;
And from afar echoes the song,
Fainter and fainter growing.
And through the air of rosy morn
I see two angels winging,
Like a harp's sweet tones, from Heaven borne,
I hear their voices singing:
"Young Werner is the happiest youth
In the German Empire dwelling,
But who bewitched him thus, forsooth,
In words he won't be telling.
Hurrah! is all that he will say,
How lovely is the month of May,
Dear love, I send thee greeting!"

X.

Who's clattering from the tower
To me a greeting queer?
'Tis, in his nest so cosy,
My friend the stork I hear.

He's preparing for a journey,
O'er sea and land will hie;
The Autumn is coming quickly,
So now he says good-bye.

Art right, that thou dost travel
Where warmer skies do smile;
From me greet fair Italia,
And also Father Nile.

There in the south are waiting
Far better meals for thee,
Than German frogs and paddocks,
Poor chafers and ennui!

Old fellow, God preserve thee,
My blessing take along;
For thou, at peaceful night-time,
Hast often heard my song.

And if perchance thou wert not
Asleep within thy nest,
Thou must have seen how often
With kisses I was blest.

But be not, pray, a tell-tale,
Be still, old comrade mine,
What business have the Moors there
With lovers on the Rhine?

XI.

A settled life I did despise,
And so to wandering took;
When soon I found, to my surprise,
A comfortable nook.

But as I lay in rest's soft lap,
And hoped for long repose,
There broke o'er me a thunder-clap,
My stay came to a close.

Each year a different plant I see
Spring up, with beauty clad;
A fool's mad dance this world would be,
If 'twere not quite so sad.

XII.

To life belongs a most unpleasant feature: