Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/75

Rh The leaf is bursting from the twig,
 * The birds are gaily singing;

And from the youthful breast and heart
 * The buds of love are springing.

The trees are rustling softly; through The leaves scarce moves a breeze; The birds in blissful dreams repose, So silent and at ease.

Many a star in heaven appears,
 * Around it is so free;

But in my bosom there is grief,
 * In my heart is misery.

Upon the petals of the flowers
 * The dew in splendour lies;

O God, and even so the dew
 * Wells up into my eyes.

Now all is sleeping in the world,
 * Save the heart within my breast;

God knows, it is the heart alone
 * That ne'er lies down to rest.