Ix

Should I tell Thee the secret tale As nightingale in the oak forest-- Or should I weep in bitter tears What sways my heart and gives it no rest?

Or, kneeling down, with ardent words Should I in prayer spell my passion-- Or in a fair and tranquil night Out of my dream breathe my confession?

Or should the hidden paradise Sleep in my heart’s depth, never uttered, Like in a grave, and far from Thee My love in secret be but muttered?

O angel mine, I do confess My love for mankind, never dying; But toward Thee--O, don’t chide me, That my mind’s weak and undefying!