Alfred Walter von Heymel (1878–1914)

FOR a few hours of thy charming discourse

I have now ridden seven moons.

Timid delay was unknown to my horse,

Fear to my servants. Over the dunes,

Through the forests and the dark

We have struggled painfully.

Ere the dawn awoke the lark,

We would sing of thee, of thee.

Greetings to thee my steeds would neigh;

I sang my longing, lovelorn lay.

My men would all take up my tune,

And so we roused the sunlight soon—

The sun that followed on our way,

To thee, thou sun, my sunshine gay.

And I have reached thee now at last:

I kiss and kiss thy hand. My heart

Is beating lightly and so fast,

As if it flew, an aimless dart!

To-day I may be thy favoured knight;

That gives me joy for all time to come.

The horses are ready at fall of night.

A passing farewell—and so we ride home,

For seven moons; and every day

My bliss must be more far away.—

Nay, thou within my heart shalt be,

For I am so in love with thee!