Come, Spring; Come

My thoughts, last autumn, were: come gentle spring,

Because sweet happiness to me you'll bring.

My sweetheart to some country-place shall move
My calls on her she'll lovingly approve.

Yes, is she'd be one hundred miles away,

An hundred miles I would traverse each day.
When early dawn is kissed by rising sun,
When by the sun aroused, night has begun

To spread its wings, and when the moon on high, —

A sultan he, for whom the starry sky
The harem is, calls on his fairy fays:
Her faithful shadow then I'll be, always

And e'er her footsteps following, until

Her love, like springtide's flowers fair shall fill
Her heart, and she with virgin-blushes' glow
One of these flowers shall on me bestow!

Why should she not pin roses to my breast?

Does it not a betrothal's kiss suggest?

Come springtide come! Come with flowers replete,
I'll need them for my sweetheart's bridal wreath.

Come springtide come! Yield me thy flowers

which bloom,
I want to put a wreath upon her tomb.