Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/74

52 Juicier far,—and with more splendour Ripen, and more speedily! O'er ye broods the sun at even As he sinks to rest, and heaven Softly breathes into your ear All its fertilising fulness, While the moon's refreshing coolness, Magic-laden, hovers near; And, alas! ye're watered ever By a stream of tears that rill From mine eyes,—tears ceasing never, Tears of love that nought can still!

 RESTLESS LOVE. 