Louder now the fir-trees rustle, Spinning-wheel more harshly drones; In their pauses sounds the cithern, And the old song's simple tones: "Do not fear, my tender nursling, Aught of evil spirits' might; For good angels still are watching Round thy pathway day and night." Now the fir-tree's dark-green fingers Tap upon the window low, And the moon, a yellow listener, Casts within her sweetest glow. Father, mother, both are sleeping, Near at hand their rest they take; But we two, in pleasant gossip, Keep each other long awake. "That thou prayest much too often, Seems unlikely, I declare; On thy lips there is a quiver Which was never born of prayer. "Ah! that heartless, cold expression All my being terrifies-- Though my darkling fear is lessened By thy frank and honest eyes. "Yet I doubt if thou believest What is held for truth by most; Hast thou faith in God the Father, In the Son and Holy Ghost?" "Ah, my darling! when an infant By my mother's knee I stood, I believed in God the Father, In the Ruler great and good. "He who made the world so lovely, Gave man beauty, gave him force, And to sun and moon and planets Pre-appointed each its course. "As I older grew, my darling, And my way in wisdom won, I in reason comprehended, And believe now in the Son-- "In the well-loved Son, who, loving, Oped the gates of Love so wide; And for thanks--as is the custom-- By the world was crucified. "Now, that I in full-grown manhood Reading, travel, wisdom boast; Still my heart expands, and, truly I believe the Holy Ghost, "Who bath worked the greatest wonders-- Greater still he'll work again; He bath broken tyrants' strongholds, Broken every vassal's chain. "Ancient deadly wounds he healeth, He renews man's ancient right; All to him, born free and equal, Are as nobles in his sight. "Clouds of evil flee before him, And those cobwebs of the brain Which forbade us love and pleasure, Scowling grimly on our pain. "And a thousand knights in armor Hath he chosen and required To fulfil his holy bidding-- All with noblest zeal inspired. "Lo! I their precious swords are gleaming, And their banners wave in fight! What! Thou fain would'st see, my darling, Such a proud and noble knight? "Well, then, gaze on me, my dearest; I am of that lordly host, Kiss me! and you kiss a chosen Champion of the Holy Ghost!" Silently the moon conceals her Down behind the sombre trees, And the lamp which lights our chamber Flickers in the evening breeze. But the starry eyes are beaming Softly o'er the dimpled cheeks, And the purple rose is glowing, While the gentle maiden speaks. "Little people--fairy goblins-- Steal away our meat and bread; In the chest it lies at evening, In the morning it has fled.