Classic Poem

Auf den Wolken ruht der Mond

The moon is lying on the clouds,
A giant orange, strangely beaming;
Stretched upon the harsh gray sea
Long and broadening stripes are gleaming.

Alone I wander by the shore
Where the waters break and whiten,
And I hear a watery voice,
And my pulses leap and tighten.

Oh, the night is far too long
And I cannot bear this quiet —
Come, ye lovely water-sprites,
Dance and rouse the magic riot.

With my head upon your lap,
Hold me close and never wake me.
Sing me dead and kiss me dead;
Heart and soul and body — take me!