To part--alas what grief in this is!--
In every look thy heart spoke plain.
What ecstasy was in thy kisses!
What changing thrill of joy and pain!
I went. One solace yet to capture,
Thine eyes pursued in sweet distress.
But to be loved, what holy rapture!
To love, ah gods, what happiness!

[Illustration: THE HEATHROSE K. Kogler]


THE HEATHROSE[5] (1771)

Once a boy a Rosebud spied,
Heathrose fair and tender,
All array'd in youthful pride,--
Quickly to the spot he hied,
Ravished by her splendor.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
Said the boy, "I'll now pick thee
Heathrose fair and tender!"
Rosebud cried "And I'll prick thee,
So thou shalt remember me,
Ne'er will I surrender!"
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
But the wanton plucked the rose,
Heathrose fair and tender;