Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/300

266 But unawares the tear makes haste to dry: He loves, methinks, e'en to those glades so still,— And shalt not thou to distant lands extend? Receive the murmurs of this loving sigh; My only joy on earth is in thy will, Thy kindly will tow'rd me; a token send!

 THE LOVING ONE ONCE MORE. 