Wide like heaven's great arch their gaze;
And her little lily finger
Archly on the rose she lays.

Nay, the mother cannot see us,
For she spins the whole day long;
And the father plays the cithern
As he sings a good old song.

And the maiden softly whispers,
Softly, that none may hear;
Many a solemn little secret
Hath she murmured in my ear.

"Since I lost my aunt who loved me,
Now we never more repair
To the shooting-lodge at Goslar,
And it is so pleasant there!

"Here above it is so lonely,
On the rocks where cold winds blow;
And in winter we are always
Deeply buried in the snow.

"And I'm such a timid creature,
And I'm frightened like a child
At the evil mountain spirits,
Who by night are raging wild"

Silent falls the winsome maiden,