While his eager soul drinks in each sound:"Can it be that now before my gaze
O'er the meadowI was a-going,And there saw theButterflies,Sipping, dancing,Flying, glancing,And charmingThe eyes.
With growling sound.
In his breath alone is rife!
To thy mind's eye appear?
They begin with their sweethearts the ball.The fife and the fiddle all merrily sound,Thy twine, and they glide, and with nimbleness bound,Thy whisper, and chatter, and, chatter around;
And joy and gladness
Yet first too early warn'd, and then too late,He feels his flight restrain'd, is captur'd straightTo meet again is sweet, to part is sad,Again to meet again is still more glad,And years in one short moment are enshrin'd;But, oh, the harsh farewell is hid behind!
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