All in All

Be calm, O Wind, and gently blow,
Nor rouse the waves’ commotion.
Ye Clouds, veil not the bay so low:
My love sails o’er the ocean.

Out, boatman, out! The wind will rise;
The yawl will find it stormy.
Ay, thrice thy fee.—Her signal flies.—
My love is waiting for me.

Blow on, ye Winds, your prey is flown,
Who cares for wave or weather?
My love, my own! no more alone,
We walk the shore together.