Songs, 2

I’m driven hither and thither along!
But yet a few hours, I shall see her again,
Herself, the most fair of the fair maiden-train;--
True heart, what means thy throbbing so strong?

The hours are only a slothful race!
Lazily they move each day,
And with yawning go their way;--
Hasten on, ye slothful race!

Wild-raging eagerness thrills me indeed;
Never in love have the hours delighted;
So, in a cruel bond strangely united,
Slily deride they the lovers’ wild speed.