Summer

The little gate was reached at last, Half hid in lilacs down the lane; She pushed it wide, and, as she past, A wistful look she backward cast, And said,--'Auf wiedersehen!'

With hand on latch, a vision white Lingered reluctant, and again Half doubting if she did aright, Soft as the dews that fell that night, She said,--'Auf wiedersehen!'

The lamp's clear gleam flits up the stair; I linger in delicious pain; Ah, in that chamber, whose rich air To breathe in thought I scarcely dare, Thinks she,--'Auf wiedersehen?' ...

'Tis thirteen years; once more I press The turf that silences the lane; I hear the rustle of her dress, I smell the lilacs, and--ah, yes, I hear 'Auf wiedersehen!'

Sweet piece of bashful maiden art! The English words had seemed too fain, But these--they drew us heart to heart, Yet held us tenderly apart; She said, 'Auf wiedersehen!'