Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/77

Rh

Thou art still but a flower-bud,
 * From out the earth scarce born,

And yet already roses fair
 * Thy countenance adorn.

These roses are so beautiful,
 * Their fragrance so divine,

My soul is filled with love for them, My heart for them doth pine.

The stars up yonder in the sky
 * Are mighty worlds; and fain

Would I but know what kind they are
 * The beings they contain.

And whether there is someone there
 * Who gazes from above;

And if 'tis so, if he like me
 * Is singing songs of love.

The moon is up amidst the stars,
 * The woods are ﬁlled with sound;

O'er the wide world it is as if
 * God scattered love around.