Sweet Heaven! I do love a maiden,
Radiant, rare, and beauty-laden:
When she's near me, heaven is round me,
Her dear presence doth so bound me!
I could wring my heart of gladness,
Might it free her lot of sadness!
Give the world, and all that's in it,
Just to press her hand a minute!
Yet she weeteth not I love her;
Never dare I tell the sweet
Tale, but to the stars above her,
And the flowers that kiss her feet.
O! to live and linger near her,
And in tearful moments cheer her!
I could be a bird to lighten
Her dear heart--her sweet eyes brighten:
Or in fragrance, like a blossom,
Give my life upon her bosom!
For my love's without a measure,
All its pangs are sweetest pleasure;
Yet she weeteth not I love her;
Never dare I tell the sweet
Tale, but to the stars above her,
And the flowers that kiss her feet.
