Under der linden
an der heide,
dâ unser zweier bette was,
dâ muget ir vinden
Alas! Where have all the years gone?
Did I dream my life, or is it real?
What I always thought - was that something?
When from the sod the flow'rets spring,
And smile to meet the sun's bright ray,
When birds their sweetest carols sing
I've got my fief, you world! A fief at last!
I shall not fear the February blast,
and petty barons can be flattered less.
Ah! where are hours departed fled?
Is life a dream, or true indeed?
Did all my heart hath fashioned
From fancy's visitings proceed?
'Lady,' I said, 'this garland wear!
For thou wilt wear it gracefully;
And on thy brow 'twill sit so fair,
And thou wilt dance so light and free;
Under the lime tree
On the heather,
Where we had shared a place of rest,
Still you may find there,
Too well thy weakness have I proved;
Now would I leave thee; - it is time -
Good night! to thee, oh world, good night!
Fain (could it be) would I a home obtain,
And warm me by a hearth-side of my own.
Then, then, I'd sing about the sweet birds' strain,