How, in the light of morning, <br />Round me thou glowest, <br />Spring, thou beloved one! <br />With thousand-varying loving bliss <br />The sacred emotions <br />Born of thy warmth eternal <br />Press 'gainst my bosom, <br />Thou endlessly fair one! <br />Could I but hold thee clasp'd <br />Within mine arms! <br /> <br />Ah! upon thy bosom <br />Lay I, pining, <br />And then thy flowers, thy grass, <br />Were pressing against my heart. <br />Thou coolest the burning <br />Thirst of my bosom, <br />Beauteous morning breeze! <br />The nightingale then calls me <br />Sweetly from out of the misty vale. <br />I come, I come! <br />Whither? Ah, whither? <br /> <br />Up, up, lies my course. <br />While downward the clouds <br />Are hovering, the clouds <br />Are bending to meet yearning love. <br />For me, <br />Within thine arms <br />Upwards! <br />Embraced and embracing! <br />Upwards into thy bosom, <br />Oh Father all-loving!<br /><br />Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ganymede-3/
