Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/76

72 Upon God's earth, all now is mute,
 * But the heart its song desires;

God knows, it is the heart alone
 * That never, never tires.

Thought is by slumber overcome,
 * Night changes place with day;

The heart keeps watch, aye in the breast,
 * And there o'er love holds sway.

Like to a spreading tree am I,
 * Decked for a festive day;

Come hither to the shade I spread,
 * Thou lovely rose of May.

Here every leaf in fragrance breathes,
 * The bees go humming by;

The birds fly in the evening here,
 * They are my thoughts that fly.

They fly away, far, far away,
 * Like children from their home;

But if thou com’st to tarry nigh,
 * No longer will they roam.