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      Of love’s wild glow I dreamt in former days,

       Of mignonette, fair locks, and myrtle twining,

       Of lips so sweet, with bitter words combining,

       Of mournful melodies of mournful lays.

      The dreams have long been scatter’d far and banish’d,

       My dearest vision fled for evermore,

       And, save the burning glow I used to pour

       Into my tender numbers, all is vanish’d.

      Thou ling’rest still, deserted song! Now go,

       And seek that long-lost vision; shouldst thou meet it,

       On my behalf in loving fashion greet it—

       An airy breath to that dim shade I blow.

      2.

      A dream both strange and sad to see

       Once startled and delighted me;

       The dismal vision haunts me still,

       And in my heart doth wildly thrill.

      There was a garden wondrous fair—

       I fain would wander gladly there;

       The beauteous flowers upon me gazed,

       And high I found my rapture raised.

      The birds were twittering above

       Their joyous melodies of love;

       The sun was red with rays of gold,

       The flowers all lovely to behold.

      Sweet fragrance all the herbs exhale,

       And sweetly, softly blows the gale;

       And all things glisten, all things smile,

       And show their loveliness the while.

      Amid that bright and flowery land

       A marble fountain was at hand,

       And there I saw a maiden fair

       Washing a garment white with care.

      Her cheeks were sweet, her eyes were mild,

       Fair hair’d and saintly look’d the child,

       And as I gazed, she seem’d to be

       So strange, yet so well known to me.

      The beauteous girl, who made all speed,

       A song was humming, strange indeed:

       “Water, water, quickly run,

       “Let the washing soon be done.”

      I went and stood then in her way,

       And whisper’d gently: “Prythee say,

       “Thou maiden sweet and wondrous fair,

       “For whom dost thou this dress prepare?”

      Then spake she quickly: “Ready be!

       “I’m washing thine own shroud for thee!”—

       Scarce had her lips these words let fall,

       Like foam the vision vanish’d all.

      And still entranced, ere long I stood

       Within a desert, gloomy wood:

       To reach the skies the branches sought;

       I stood amazed, and thought and thought.

      And hark! what hollow echoing sound

       Like axe-strokes fills the air around

       Through waste and wood I speed apace,

       Until I reach an open place.

      In the green plain before me spread

       A mighty oak tree rear’d its head;

       And lo! the maiden, strange to see,

       Was felling with an axe the tree.

      With blow on blow a song she sings

       Unceasing, as the axe she swings:

       “Iron glittering, iron bright,

       “Hew the oaken chest aright.”

      I went and stood then in her way,

       And whisper’d gently: “Prythee say,

       “Thou sweet and wondrous maiden mine,

       “For whom dost hew the oaken shrine?”

      Then spake she quickly: “Time is short,

       “To hew thy coffin is my sport!”—

       Scarce had her lips these words let fall,

       Like foam the vision vanish’d all.

      Bleak, dim was all above, beneath,

       Around was barren, barren heath:

       I felt in strange mysterious mood,

       And shuddering inwardly I stood.

      And as I roam’d on silently,

       A whitish streak soon caught mine eye;

       I hasten’d tow’rd it, and when there,

       Behold, I found the maiden fair!

      On wide heath stood the snowy maid,

       Digging the ground with sexton’s spade;

       Scarce dared I gaze on her aright,

       So fair yet fearful was the sight.

      The beauteous girl, who made all speed,

       A song was humming, strange indeed:

       “Spade, O spade, so sharp and tried,

       “Dig a pit both deep and wide.”

      I went, and stood then in her way,

       And whisper’d gently: “Prythee say,

       “Thou maiden sweet and wondrous fair,

       “What means the pit that’s lying there?”

      Then spake she quickly: “Silent be!

       “A cold, cold grave I dig for thee.”

       And when the fair maid thus replied,

       Its mouth the pit straight opened wide.

      And when the pit was full in view,

       A chilling shudder pierced me through,

       And in the grave so dark and deep

       Headlong I fell, and—woke from sleep.

      3.

      In midnight vision I myself have spied,

       As for some festival, in ruffles dress’d,

       In a black gala-coat and silken vest;—

       My sweet and trusting love with scorn I eyed;

       And bow’d low down, and said “Art thou a bride?”

       “I wish thee joy, dear Madam, I protest!”

       And yet my lips reluctantly express’d

       The words so cold and tauntingly applied.

       And bitter tears then suddenly ’gan falling

       From her dear eyes, and in a sea of weeping

       Wellnigh dissolved her image so enthralling.

       O lovely eyes, ye stars of love so kindly,

       What though ye, when awake, and e’en when sleeping

       Deceived me oft, I trust ye still as blindly!

      4.

      In dream I saw a tiny

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