XXXVI.
SONG OF GOETHE.
AN DIE ENTFERNTE.
I
Love, my Love, where dost thou hide thee?
Whither art fled from me?
The wind I ask'd, if he had spied thee,
Roving o'er earth and sea:
But the wind sigh'd, for earth is wide:
He had not breathed on thee.
II
I ask'd the cloud-rack, floating ever
O'er ocean, hill, and plain:
I ask'd the Spirit of the River,
Casting his lucent chain
Round wood and lea, round province and city:
But ah! the search was vain.
III
I ask'd the summits of the mountains,
Scanning broad earth below:
The murmurous, stealthy-pacing fountains,
Winding in silver flow
'Neath the feet of men through cavern and den:
They mock'd the words of woe.
IV
I ask'd the blue skies, smiling brightly:
I ask'd the sweet spring rain,
The gauzy shower, that, floating lightly,
Falls, dries, and falls again:
The stars I task'd, the circling sun I ask'd:
But ah! the search was vain.
V
Love, my Love, I sat me sighing,
Seeking in vain for thee:
From the breeze I heard thy voice replying:
‘Ask not in Earth or Sea:
Ask not beneath, above: ask but of answering Love:
He will guide thee to me.’
