Florien | ||
161
LYRICS FROM THE GERMAN.
I
A shelter,—spent and tempest-driven
Mid winter's strife,—
I sought, and found the boon of Heaven,
Eternal life.
Oh Word, how is thy truth confessed!
Who seeketh part, shall find the whole;
I asked but for the wanderer's rest,
And found the traveller's goal.
Mid winter's strife,—
I sought, and found the boon of Heaven,
Eternal life.
Oh Word, how is thy truth confessed!
Who seeketh part, shall find the whole;
I asked but for the wanderer's rest,
And found the traveller's goal.
I asked some kindly door to ope for
My weary head;
The heart of Love I dared not hope for
Stood wide instead.
Oh Word, how is thy truth confessed!
Who sues for little, all has won;
I, that would be thy winter-guest,
Was thy belovëd son.
My weary head;
The heart of Love I dared not hope for
Stood wide instead.
Oh Word, how is thy truth confessed!
Who sues for little, all has won;
I, that would be thy winter-guest,
Was thy belovëd son.
II.
I love thee for that love thee, dear, I must;
I love thee, for 'twas so my lot befell;
I love thee by some Heavenly arrow-thrust;
I love thee by the working of a spell.
Thee love I as the rose, sweet, loves the briar;
Thee love I as the Sun his light on high;
Thee love I, life-breath of my life's desire;
Thee love I, whom to love not is to die.
I love thee, for 'twas so my lot befell;
I love thee by some Heavenly arrow-thrust;
I love thee by the working of a spell.
162
Thee love I as the Sun his light on high;
Thee love I, life-breath of my life's desire;
Thee love I, whom to love not is to die.
Florien | ||