Early Spring, by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Come ye so early, Days of delight? Making the hillside Blithesome and bright? Merrily, merrily, Little brooks rush, Down by the meadow. Under the bush. Wilken and hilltop, Azure and cool ; Fishes are sporting, In streamlet and pool. Birds of gay feather Flit through the grove, Singing together Ditties of love. Busily coming From moss-covered bowers, Brown bees are humming, Questing for flowers. Lightsome emotion, Life everywhere ; Faint wafts of fragrance Scenting the air. Now comes there sounding A sough of the breeze, Shakes through the thicket, Sinks in the trees. Sinks but returning, It ruffles my hair ; Aid me this rapture, Muses to bear! Know ye the passion, That stirs in me here? Yester e’en at gloaming, Was I with my dear!
Posted on: Thu, 20 Mar 2014 12:21:06 +0000