6[10]

  Lean close thy cheek against my cheek,
  That our tears together may blend, love,
  And press thy heart upon my heart,
  That from both one flame may ascend, love!

[Illustration:  SPRING’S AWAKENING From the Painting by Ludwig von Hofmann.]

  And while in that flame so doubly bright
  Our tears are falling and burning,
  And while in my arms I clasp thee tight
  I will die with love and yearning.

7[11]

  I’ll breathe my soul and its secret
    In the lily’s chalice white;
  The lily shall thrill and reecho
    A song of my heart’s delight.

  The song shall quiver and tremble,
    Even as did the kiss
  That her rosy lips once gave me
    In a moment of wondrous bliss.

8[12]

  The stars have stood unmoving
    Upon the heavenly plains
  For ages, gazing each on each,
    With all a lover’s pains.

  They speak a noble language,
    Copious and rich and strong;
  Yet none of your greatest schoolmen
    Can understand that tongue.

  But I have learnt it, and never
    Can forget it for my part—­
  For I used as my only grammar
    The face of the joy of my heart.

9[13]

  On the wings of song far sweeping,
    Heart’s dearest, with me thou’lt go
  Away where the Ganges is creeping;
    Its loveliest garden I know—­

  A garden where roses are burning
    In the moonlight all silent there;
  Where the lotus-flowers are yearning
    For their sister beloved and fair.

  The violets titter, caressing,
    Peeping up as the planets appear,
  And the roses, their warm love confessing,
    Whisper words, soft-perfumed, to each ear.

  And, gracefully lurking or leaping,
    The gentle gazelles come round: 
  While afar, deep rushing and sweeping,
    The waves of the Ganges sound.

  We’ll lie there in slumber sinking
    Neath the palm-trees by the stream,
  Rapture and rest deep drinking,
    Dreaming the happiest dream.

10[14]

  The lotos flower is troubled
    By the sun’s too garish gleam,
  She droops, and with folded petals
    Awaiteth the night in a dream.

  ’Tis the moon has won her favor,
    His light her spirit doth wake,
  Her virgin bloom she unveileth
    All gladly for his dear sake.

  Unfolding and glowing and shining
    She yearns toward his cloudy height;
  She trembles to tears and to perfume
    With pain of her love’s delight.

[Illustration:  FLOWER FANTASY Train the Painting by Ludwig von Hofmann.]

11[15]

  The Rhine’s bright wave serenely
    Reflects as it passes by
  Cologne that lifts her queenly
    Cathedral towers on high.

  A picture hangs in the dome there,
    On leather with gold bedight,
  Whose beauty oft when I roam there
    Sheds hope on my troubled night.