Ich Hör’ Es Sogar Im Traum

SING on, sing on: half dreaming still
I hear you singing down the hill,
Through the green wood, beside the rill.

Each to the other sing, sweet birds;
Make music sweeter far than words;
Drown my still soul with song, sweet birds.

Under each starbeam there was sleep;
Far down the river wandered deep;
The woods closed round it still and steep.

One watch-dog from the lone farm bayed;
The waterfowl beneath the shade
Of sedge and flowering reed were laid.

The birds sang on, and slumber shed
Like silver clouds upon my head;
I slept, nor stirred me in my bed.

Into my room he seemed to glide;
The moonbeams through the window wide
Snowed in upon my white bedside.

He kissed my lips, he kissed my cheek;
I could not kiss him back nor speak:
I feared the blissful sleep to break.

Sing louder, nightingales of May!
Sing, dash my golden dream away!
Sing anthems to the orient day!

The moonlight pales; the gray cock crows;
A murmur in the tree top goes;
Sleep sheds her petals like a rose.

John Addington Symonds.