Wood, The—A Dream

Whate'er of verdure fresh or shade serene
With tranquil calm could heart or senses slake,
Methought encircled me, and seemed to make
A still retreat, a pleasant forest-scene.
Whate'er of springing buds or blossom's sheen
Hath round me glowed—in dreams, or whilst awake—
Shaped like a huntress fair, all lightly brake—
(Herself the forest-flower)—thro' bushes green.
She fled; I followed fast with many a prayer,
And now mine arms were almost round her thrown,
When lo! my morning-dream dissolved in air!
O fate! thou bringst my every hope to naught!
Not only hath the lovely vision flown,
But e'en the wood wherein she might be sought!
Translation: 
Language: 
Author of original: 
Ludwig Uhland
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.