Last Night

Christian Winther (1796–1876)

From the Swedish by Théophile Julius Henry Marzials

LAST night the nightingale waked me,

Last night when all was still;

It sang in the golden moonlight

From out the woodland hill.

I opened the window gently,

And all was dreamy dew—

And oh! the bird, my darling,

Was singing, singing of you!

I think of you in the day-time;

I dream of you by night—

I wake—would you were near me,

And hot tears blind my sight.

I hear a sigh in the lime-tree,

The wind is floating through,

And oh! the night, my darling,

Is longing, longing for you.

Nor think I can forget you!

I could not though I would!

I see you in all around me,—

The stream, the night, the wood;

The flowers that sleep so gently,

The stars above the blue,

Oh! heaven itself, my darling,

Is praying, praying for you.