  W Wake, happy heart, O awake! For the mists are flitting away; And the hawthorn boughs for thy sake Are eager and longing to break Into garlands of blossoming spray. Sing, sing it, O gay little linnet! And hasten, O glad lark, to bring it, The beautiful Day! O Dawn, I am hungry with yearning For gifts thou canst give;— The proud soul within me is burning With new life to live. I am strong with the strength of long sleeping; Fill full now each vein With rich crimson wine thou art keeping For glad hearts to drain! O hush! for the clouds break asunder; Her delicate feet Touch the hills with a reverent wonder If earth will be sweet. And the heart that within me was breaking With longing for her, Breaks utterly, now that awaking I hear her low stir. So frail and so dainty and tender; What heart could foresee That the goddess it longed for, a slender Young fairy would be? Empty-handed, she dreads my displeasure, And turns half away; ’Tis for me then to give of my treasure, O beautiful Day! Appealing, she waits till I greet her, With no gifts for me; Dear Day, after all it is sweeter For me to crown thee! If I am not a happier maiden Because of thy stay, Thou shalt be with bright gifts from me laden, |
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