And when I lean upon thy breast, No dream of heaven could be more blest; But, when thou say'st thou lovest me, I fall to weeping bitterly. 5[9] Thy face, that fair, sweet 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 reëcho 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 belovèd 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 for his dear sake. Unfolding and glowing and shining She yearns toward his cloudy height; She trembles to tears and to perfume With pain of her love's delight. [Illustration: FLOWER FANTASY _Train the Painting by Ludwig von Hofmann._] 11[15] The Rhine's bright wave serenely Reflects as it passes by Cologne that lifts her queenly Cathedral towers on high.