A YOUTH, light-hearted and content, | |
| I wander through the world; | |
| Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent | |
| And straight again is furled. | |
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| Yet oft I dream, that once a wife | 5 |
| Close in my heart was locked, | |
| And in the sweet repose of life | |
| A blessed child I rocked. | |
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| I wake! Away that dream,—away! | |
| Too long did it remain! | 10 |
| So long, that both by night and day | |
| It ever comes again. | |
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| The end lies ever in my thought; | |
| To a grave so cold and deep | |
| The mother beautiful was brought; | 15 |
| Then dropt the child asleep. | |
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| But now the dream is wholly o’er, | |
| I bathe mine eyes and see; | |
| And wander through the world once more, | |
| A youth so light and free. | 20 |
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| Two locks—and they are wondrous fair— | |
| Left me that vision mild; | |
| The brown is from the mother’s hair, | |
| The blond is from the child. | |
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| And when I see that lock of gold, | 25 |
| Pale grows the evening-red; | |
| And when the dark lock I behold, | |
| I wish that I were dead. | |
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