 | Forest Notes |  |
79
SCHLÜSSEL-BLUME
Oh, Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the spring;
The meadows are dusted gold,
The lark is high on the wing,
And his song bright notes doth fling
Like living stars on the wold:
Oh Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the spring.
The golden key of the spring;
The meadows are dusted gold,
The lark is high on the wing,
And his song bright notes doth fling
Like living stars on the wold:
Oh Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the spring.
But the day is wintry cold,
And the lark no more can sing;
The meadows in mist are stoled,
Your heart is locked to its King.
Oh, Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the Spring.
And the lark no more can sing;
80
Your heart is locked to its King.
Oh, Love, your fingers hold
The golden key of the Spring.
A.
| Forest Notes | |