Sweet darling, beloved by me solely, The thoughts in my memory dwell That once I possess’d thee wholly, Thy soul and body as well. Thy body, so young and tender, I need, beyond all doubt; Thy soul to the tomb I’ll surrender, I’ve plenty of soul without. I’ll cut my soul in sunder, And half of it breathe into thee, And when I embrace thee,--O wonder!-- One soul and body we’ll be. 41. The blockheads, their holidays keeping, Are walking through forest and plain; They shout, and like kittens are leaping, And hail sweet Nature again. They gaze, with glances that glisten, On each romantic thing; With ears like asses they listen To hear the sparrows sing. My chamber window to darken, With black cloth I hang it by day; To the signal my spirits straight hearken, Day-visits they hasten to pay. My olden love also draws nigh me, From the realms of the dead she appears; She, weeping, sits gently close by me, And softens my bosom to tears. 42. Many visions of times long vanish’d Arise from out of their tomb, And show me how once in thy presence I lived in my life’s young bloom. All day I mournfully totter’d Through the streets, as though in a dream The people gazed on me with wonder, So silent and sad did I seem. The night-time suited me better, Deserted the streets were then, And I and my shadow together We wandered in silence again. With footsteps echoing loudly I wander’d over the bridge; The moon with solemn look hail’d me As she burst through the cloudy ridge. I stood in front of thy dwelling, And fondly gazed up on high; I gazed up towards thy window, My heart breathed many a sigh. Well know I that thou from the window Full often hast gazed below, And in the moonlight hast seen me Stand fix’d, the image of woe. 43. A youth once loved a maiden, Who loved another instead; The other himself loved another, And with the latter did wed. The maiden, in scornful anger, Straight married the first of the men Who happened to come across her,-- The youth was heart-broken then. ’Tis only an old, old story, And yet it ever seems new; The heart of him whom it pictures Will soon be broken in two. 44. Friendship, love, philosophers’ stone,-- These three things men value alone. I, too, valued and sought them ever, But, alas, discovered them never. 45. On hearing the strains enthralling That my loved one sang to me erst, With torments fierce and appalling My heart is ready to burst. Impell’d by a gloomy yearning I seek in the forest relief, And there in tears hotly burning I quench my anguish and grief. 46.