My Songs

Oft am I sunk in deepest thought,
Although my musings bring me naught,
My thoughts o'er all the country fly,
Flit o'er the earth, soar to the sky,
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are moon-rays of my dreamy soul.

Instead of dreaming, better 'twere

If for my future I should care;
And yet I ask, what care have I
Since God doth guard me from on high,
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are mayflies of my care-freed soul.
But if a lovely maid I meet,
My thoughts to inner depths retreat;
And then into her eyes I gaze,
As on the lake fall starry rays.
The songs which from my lips then roll

Are roses of my love-bound soul.
If mine her love, my joy wine crowns,
If not, then wine my sorrow drowns,
And where wine in abundance flows,
There gayety right swiftly grows-
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are rainbows of my misty soul.

Yet, while I hold the glass in hand,
The yoke oppresses many a land;
And joyous as the glasses ring,
As sadly bondsmen's fetters cling;
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are clouds that overcast my soul.

Why do men dwell in slavery's night?
Why burst they not their chains in fight?
Or do they wait till God some day
Shall let rust gnaw their chains away?
The songs which from my lips then roll
Are lightning flashes from my soul.