And if the branches tap my pane
And the poplars whisper nightly,
It is to make me dream again
I hold you to me tightly.
And if the stars shine on the pond
And light its sombre shoal,
It is to quench my mind’s despond
And flood with peace my soul.
And if the clouds their tresses part
And does the moon outblaze,
It is but to remind my heart
I long for you always.
“O remain, dear one, I love you,
Stay with me in my fair land,
For your dreamings and your longings
Only I can understand.
You, who like a prince reclining
Over the pool with heaven starred;
You who gaze up from the water
With such earnest deep regard.
Stay, for where the lapping wavelets
Shake the tall and tasseled grass,
I will make you hear in secret
How the furtive chamois pass.
Oh, I see you wrapped in magic,
Hear your murmur low and sweet,
As you breqk the shallow water
With your slender naked feet;
See you thus amidst the ripples
Which the moon’s pale beams engage,
And your years seem but an instant,
And each instant seems an age.”
Thus spake the woods in soft entreaty;
Arching boughs above me bent,
But I whistled high, and laughing
Out into the open went.
Now though even I roamed that country
How could I its charm recall …
Where has boyhood gone, I wonder,
With its pool and woods and all?
To the star
The radiance from that new-born star
Will take many thousands of years
To travel a path that comes so far
To finally reach our eyes.
Perhaps it died while on its way
Through infinite blue space,
Yet only now does its light stray
To shine upon your face.
Slowly climbing the dark skies
Is the dead star’s icon:
Invisible when it did exist,
Today, we see an illusion.
And so it is when passion’s fled
Lost in the depths of night,
The light of our love, now dead,
Still haunts us in its flight.