Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/60

38 SEPARATION.

 TO THE DISTANT ONE.

have I lost thee evermore, Hast thou, oh, fair one, from me flown? Still in mine ear sounds, as of yore, Thine every word, thine every tone.

As when at morn the wanderer's eye Attempts to pierce the air in vain, When, hidden in the azure sky, The lark high o'er him chants his strain: 