After her health we asked, Our care and regard to evince-- (We have made the very same speeches To many an old cat since). We also sat and wisely Discoursed, as old folks do, Complaining how all went better In those good old times we knew-- How love, and truth, and believing Had left the world to itself, And how so dear was the coffee, And how so rare was the pelf. The children's games are over, The rest is over with youth-- The world, the good games, the good times, The belief, and the love, and the truth. 5[32] E'en as a lovely flower, So fair, so pure thou art; I gaze on thee, and sadness Comes stealing o'er my heart. My hands I fain had folded Upon thy soft brown hair, Praying that God may keep thee So lovely, pure, and fair. 6[33] I would that my love and its sadness Might a single word convey, The joyous breezes should bear it, And merrily waft it away. They should waft it to thee, beloved, This soft and wailful word, At every hour thou shouldst hear it, Where'er thou art 'twould be heard. And when in the night's first slumber Thine eyes scarce closing seem, Still should my word pursue thee Into thy deepest dream. 7[34] The shades of the summer evening lie On the forest and meadows green; The golden moon shines in the azure sky Through balm-breathing air serene. The cricket is chirping the brooklet near, In the water a something stirs, And the wanderer can in the stillness hear A plash and a sigh through the furze. There all by herself the fairy bright Is bathing down in the stream; Her arms and throat, bewitching and white, In the moonshine glance and gleam. 8[35] I know not what evil is coming, But my heart feels sad and cold; A song in my head keeps humming, A tale from the times of old. The air is fresh and it darkles, And smoothly flows the Rhine; The peak of the mountain sparkles In the fading sunset-shine. The loveliest wonderful maiden On high is sitting there, With golden jewels braiden, And she combs her golden hair. With a golden comb sits combing, And ever the while sings she A marvelous song through the gloaming Of magical melody. It hath caught the boatman, and bound him In the spell of a wild, sad love; He sees not the rocks around him, He sees only her above. The waves through the pass keep swinging, But boatman or boat is none; And this with her mighty singing The Lorelei hath done. [Illustration: ROCKY COAST _From the Painting by Ludwig von Hofmann._] * * * * * TWILIGHT[36] (1825-26)