Philister in Sonntagsrocklein

Smug burghers and tradesmen are tripping
Through woods in the smartest style;
Like goats they are hopping and skipping
Admiring " fair Nature" the while.

In eyes that are bleary and blinking
A ray of Romance springs;
And great, long ears are drinking
The song the sparrow sings.

But I am beclouding and shrouding
My windows with curtains of gray;
For the ghosts of my fancies are crowding
To pay me a visit to-day.

The old love comes in, creeping
From Death's immense domain;
She sits by my side, and, weeping,
She melts my heart again.