Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/54

32 All times she lives within my heart and brain, Yet can I think of her without a pain, My spirit soars away serene and free, And, by the strength of its divine emotion, Transforms its love to all a saint's devotion, Refines desire into idolatry.

The lightest cloudlet that doth fleck the sky, And floats along the sunshine airily, More lightly in its beauty floateth never, Than doth my heart, with tranquil joy elate. By fear untouched, for jealousy too great, I love, oh, yes, I love—I love her ever.

 TO LUNA.

of the earliest light, Type of loveliness in sorrow, Silver mists thy radiance borrow, Even as they cross thy sight. When thou comest to the sky, In their dusky hollows waken, Spirits that are sad, forsaken, Birds that shun the day, and I.

Looking downward far and wide, Hidden things thou dost discover. Luna! help a hapless lover, Lift him kindly to thy side! Aided by thy friendly beams, Let him, through the lattice peeping, Look into the room where, sleeping, Lies the maiden of his dreams.

Ah, I see her! Now I gaze, Bending in a trance Elysian, 