Thoughts in a Tranquil Night
Athwart the bed
I watch the moonbeams cast a trail
So bright, so cold, so frail,
That for a space it gleams
Like hoar-frost on the margin of my dreams.
I raise my head, —
The splendid moon I see:
Then droop my head,
And sink to dreams of thee —
My Fatherland, of thee!