I know not whence it rises, <br />This thought so full of woe ; <br />But a tale of times departed <br />Haunts me, and will not go. <br /> <br />The air is cool, and it darkens, <br />And calmly flows the Rhine, <br />The mountain-peaks are sparkling <br />In the sunny evening-shine. <br /> <br />And yonder sits a maiden, <br />The fairest of the fair ; <br />With gold is her garment glittering, <br />And she combs her golden hair: <br /> <br />With a golden comb she combs it; <br />And a wild song singeth she, <br />That melts the heart with a wondrous <br />And powerful melody <br />. <br />The boatman feels his bosom <br />With a nameless longing move ; <br />He sees not the gulfs before him, <br />His gaze is fixed above, <br /> <br />Till over boat and boatman <br />The Rhine's deep waters run : <br />And this, with her magic singing, <br />The Lore-lei has done !<br /><br />Heinrich Heine<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lore-lei/
