The clouds fast gather, <br /> The forest-oaks roar-- <br /> A maiden is sitting <br /> Beside the green shore,-- <br /> The billows are breaking with might, with might, <br /> And she sighs aloud in the darkling night, <br /> Her eyelid heavy with weeping. <br /> <br /> "My heart's dead within me, <br /> The world is a void; <br /> To the wish it gives nothing, <br /> Each hope is destroyed. <br /> I have tasted the fulness of bliss below <br /> I have lived, I have loved,--Thy child, oh take now, <br /> Thou Holy One, into Thy keeping!" <br /> <br /> "In vain is thy sorrow, <br /> In vain thy tears fall, <br /> For the dead from their slumbers <br /> They ne'er can recall; <br /> Yet if aught can pour comfort and balm in thy heart, <br /> Now that love its sweet pleasures no more can impart, <br /> Speak thy wish, and thou granted shalt find it!" <br /> <br /> "Though in vain is my sorrow, <br /> Though in vain my tears fall,-- <br /> Though the dead from their slumbers <br /> They ne'er can recall, <br /> Yet no balm is so sweet to the desolate heart, <br /> When love its soft pleasures no more can impart, <br /> As the torments that love leaves behind it!"<br /><br />Friedrich Schiller<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-maiden-s-lament/
