His sweet rose here oversea I must gather sadly; Which, beloved, unto thee I would bring how gladly! But alas! if o'er the foam I this flower should carry, It would fade ere I could come; Roses may not tarry. Farther let no mortal fare Who would be a wooer, Than unwithered he may bear Blushing roses to her, Or than nightingale may fly For her nesting grasses, Or than with the west wind's sigh Her soft warbling passes. * * * * * THE THREE GIPSIES[20] Three gipsy men I saw one day Stretched out on the grass together, As wearily o'er the sandy way My wagon brushed the heather. The first of the three was fiddling there In the glow of evening pallid, Playing a wild and passionate air, The tune of some gipsy ballad. From the second's pipe the smoke-wreaths curled, He watched them melt at his leisure. So full of content, it seemed the world Had naught to add to his pleasure. And what of the third?--He was fast asleep, His harp to a bough confided; The breezes across the strings did sweep, A dream o'er his heart-strings glided. The garb of all was worn and frayed, With tatters grotesquely mended; But flouting the world, and undismayed, The three with fate contended. They showed me how, by three-fold scoff, When cares of life perplex us, To smoke, or sleep, or fiddle them off, And scorn the ills that vex us. I passed them, but my gaze for long Dwelt on the trio surly-- Their dark bronze features sharp and strong, Their loose hair black and curly. * * * * * MY HEART[21] (1844) Sleepless night, the rushing rain, While my heart with ceaseless pain Hears the mournful past subsiding Or the uncertain future striding. Heart, 'tis fatal thus to harken, Let not fear thy courage darken, Though the past be all regretting And the future helpless fretting. Onward, let what's mortal die. Is the storm near, beat thou high. Who came safe o'er Galilee Makes the voyage now in thee. * * * * * EDUARD MÖRIKE AN ERROR CHANCED[22] (1824) An error chanced in the moonlight garden Of a once inviolate love. Shuddering I came on an outworn deceit, And with sorrowing look, yet cruel, Bade I the slender Enchanting maiden Leave me and wander far. Alas! her lofty forehead Was bowed, for she loved me well; Yet did she go in silence Into the dim gray World outside. Sick since then, Wounded and woeful heart! Never shall it be whole.