A Rosebush on the Hillside Grows

A rosebush on the hillside grows;
Come; darling, on my breast repose-
Thy love then whisper in my ear,
Let me that joyful story hear!
Within the Danube's rushing waves,
The sun it, seems, its shadows laves,
And o'er them sways and glows in glee,
As I sway thee upon my knee.

It has been said of me, that I

Am atheist and God deny;

Yet even now I pray intent.
To read thy heart-beats I am bent.