NEW SPRING.
191
Although thou hast brought back the birds,
How shall they find their nests?
No spot in all our fatherland
Unspoiled, unruined rests.
How shall they find their nests?
No spot in all our fatherland
Unspoiled, unruined rests.
The minstrel’s mouth is closed to-day;
No flutes or viols ring;
His heart is burning without fire.
Where art thou coming, Spring?
No flutes or viols ring;
His heart is burning without fire.
Where art thou coming, Spring?
No one is left to praise thee now
On mountain or on plain;
No one is left to wait for thee;
O Spring, thou com’st in vain!
On mountain or on plain;
No one is left to wait for thee;
O Spring, thou com’st in vain!
