Wilhelm Muller Poems

I came as a stranger; as a stranger now I leave. The flowers of May once
welcomed me warmly; a young girl spoke of love, her mother even of marriage.
Now all is bleak- the pathway covered with snow.
The time of departure is not mine to choose; I must find my way alone in
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'The rivers rush into the sea,
By castle and town they go;
The winds behind them merrily
Their noisy trumpets blow.
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I heard a brooklet gushing
From its rocky fountain near,
Down into the valley rushing,
So fresh and wondrous clear.
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