Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/69

Rh O love! thou enchanter, So golden and bright— Like the red clouds of morning That rest on yon height;—

It is thou that art clothing The fields and the bowers, And everywhere breathing The incense of flowers!

O maiden! dear maiden! How well I love thee— Thine eye, how it kindles In answer to me!

Oh! well the lark loveth Its song 'midst the blue; Oh, gladly the flowerets Expand to the dew.

And so do I love thee; For all that is best, I draw from thy beauty To gladden my breast!

And all my heart's music Is thrilling for thee! Be evermore blest, love, And loving to me!