From To Seraphime

Wandl' ich in dem Wald des

Through the wood when I am

In the dusky eventide,

Goes a dainty form in

Always closely at my side.

Is not this thy veil, the white one?

This the gentle face I love?

Is it merely moonlight

Through the gloomy firs above?

Is that sound the sound of

From mine own eyes welling deep?

Or dost thou,

Beloved,

Walk to-night by me and weep?

Es ragt ins Meer der

The Runic stone from the sea rears

Where I sit and dream and ponder;

The winds they pipe; the sea-gulls cry;

The billows foam and wander.

Oh, many a maiden loved have I,

With many a lad gone roaming—Where are they now?

The winds, they sigh-The billows wander foaming.