The morning frost shines gray
Along the misty field
Beneath the pallid way
Of early dawn revealed.
Amid the glow one sees
The day-star disappear;
Yet o’er the western trees
The moon is shining clear.
So, too, I send my glance
On distant scenes to dwell;
I see in torturing trance
The night of our farewell.
Blue eyes, a lake of bliss,
Swim dark before my sight,
Thy breath, I feel, thy kiss;
I hear thy whispering light.
My cheek upon thy breast
The streaming tears bedew,
Till, purple-black, is cast
A veil across my view.
The sun comes out; he glows,
And straight my dreams depart,
While from the cliffs he throws
A chill across my heart.
(Eduard Morike)
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