 | Poems |  |
39
BÜRGER,
OR, WINTER DEFEATED.
See! where stern Winter's icy hand
Disrobes the poplar tree!
The fields, their May-clothes lost, all naked stand.
Their forms of red, white, blue, no more I see,
Buried in snows they sleep, and live no more for me.
Disrobes the poplar tree!
The fields, their May-clothes lost, all naked stand.
Their forms of red, white, blue, no more I see,
Buried in snows they sleep, and live no more for me.
Yet flowrets sweet, shall I for you
The song of grief indite,
When I my lovely loving charmer view,
In more than all your vernal beauty bright,
With forehead white, red lip, and eyes of azure light?
The song of grief indite,
When I my lovely loving charmer view,
In more than all your vernal beauty bright,
With forehead white, red lip, and eyes of azure light?
40
Ye blackbirds, that once cheer'd the vale,
Ye nightingales, that charm'd the grove,
How vainly should your notes my ear assail,
For silver-voic'd is she, the girl I love,
And sweet her breath, as gales o'er hyacinth bed that rove.
Ye nightingales, that charm'd the grove,
How vainly should your notes my ear assail,
For silver-voic'd is she, the girl I love,
And sweet her breath, as gales o'er hyacinth bed that rove.
When of her lips I taste the bliss,
Full happiness I seem to meet;
More dear to me the honey-breathing kiss,
Than mulberry fragrant, or than cherry sweet:
What more then can I ask, in her fair spring I greet?
Full happiness I seem to meet;
More dear to me the honey-breathing kiss,
Than mulberry fragrant, or than cherry sweet:
What more then can I ask, in her fair spring I greet?
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