POEMS OF GOETHE
49
FROM THE MOUNTAIN.
[Written just after the preceding one, on a mountain overlooking the Lake of Zurich.]
Dearest Lili, if I did not love thee,
How transporting were a scene like this!
Yet, my Lili, if I did not love thee,
What were any bliss?
MAY SONG.
Between wheat-field and corn,
Between hedgerow and thorn,
Between pasture and tree,
Where is my sweetheart?
Tell it me!
Sweetheart caught I
Not at home;
She's then, thought I,
Gone to roam.
Fair and loving
Blooms sweet May,
Sweetheart's roving,
Free and gay.
By the rock near the wave,
Where her first kiss she gave,
On the greensward, to me,—
Something I see!
Is it she?
With a master all smoothly goes
Who what he bids, himself well knows.
