I.
She, who so long has lain Stone-stiff with folded wings,
Within my heart again The brown bird wakes and sings.
Brown nightingale, whose strain Is heard by day, by night,
She sings of joy and pain, Of sorrow and delight.
II.'Tis true,—in other days Have I unbarred the door;
He knows the walks and ways— Love has been here before.
Love blest and love accurst Was here in days long past;
This time is not the first, But this time is the last.
