Youth
If she in water can inflame
Such ardour,
Surely, then, flesh and blood to tame
Is harder.
When once is seen her beauteous face,
One ever longs her steps to trace.
Millstream
Over the wheel I, roaring, bound,
All-proudly,
And ev’ry spoke whirls swiftly round,
And loudly.
Since I have seen the miller’s daughter,
With greater vigour flows the water.
Youth
Like others, then, can grief, poor brook,
Oppress thee?
“Flow on!”—thus she’ll, with smiling look,
Address thee.
With her sweet loving glance, oh say,
Can she thy flowing current stay?
Millstream
’Tis sad, ’tis sad to have to speed
From yonder;
I wind, and slowly through the mead
Would wander;
And if the choice remain’d with me,
Would hasten back there presently.
Youth
Farewell, thou who with me dost prove
Love’s sadness!
Perchance some day thou’lt breathe of love
And gladness.
Go, tell her straight, and often too,
The boy’s mute hopes and wishes true.
1797. ——-