Was wollt ihr in dem Walde haben,
Mag sich die arme Menschenbrust
Am WaldesgruÃ?e nicht erlaben,
Am Morgenrot und grüner Lust?

Was tragt ihr Hörner an der Seite,
Wenn ihr des Hornes Sinn vergaÃ?t,
Wenn's euch nicht selbst lockt in die Weite,
Wie ihr vom Berg' frühmorgens blast?

Ihr werd't doch nicht die Lust erjagen,
Ihr mög't durch alle Wälder geh'n;
Nur müde FüÃ?' und leere Magen —
Mir möcht' die Jägerei vergeh'n!

O nehmet doch die Schneiderelle,
Guckt in der Küche in den Topf!
Sonntags dann auf des Hauses Schwelle,

The other day by Tamar's banks
We two sat down and lunched:
There came a roguish youngster by
And watched us as we munched;
His waders and his rod and creel
Proclaimed the fisher lad:
In friendliness we turned and asked
What sort of sporThe'd had.

" How many fish? " he answer made;
" An easy thing to ask,
But if you'd count the fish I've caught
It is a stiffish task. "

Sweet, sing a song of the May to me,
Sweeten the lingering hours!
Soft comes her whisper each day to me
ee, thro' the green and the gray, to me;
Thrills the faint flame of the flowers.
For the spell of the winter is ended,
The rainbow is seen thro' the showers,
And the May, by fair spirits attended,
Shall smile up the skies, and be ours...
Afar away yonder her foot cometh slow to us —
She steals up the south, with her cheeks all aglow, to us!
The blue waters tremble! the rain singeth low to us!
Green stir the blossoming bowers!

Good Mr Ford a fisher was
Who loved to catch the trout;
With Mr Bridge, on Tamar's bank,
He came to pull them out.

The Dartmoor streams he knew full well,
And whipped the pools with vigour,
But though he'd taken many a score,
He longed to take a bigger.

Said Mr Ford: " Yes, Dartmoor's good,
I don't wish to defame her,
But there the fish are very shy
Whilst here the trout are Tamar. "

Uunder green branches I lie,
Pensive, I know not why;
All is dead calm down here;
But yonder, tho' heaven smiles clear,
Bright winds blow, and silent and slow
The vaporous Clouds sail by.

For the branches, that here and there
Grow yellow in autumn air,
Are parted; and through the rent
Of a flower-enwoven tent,
The round blue eye of the peaceful sky
Shows tearless, quiet, and fair.

Face upward, calmly I rest
As the leaf that lies dead on my breast;
And the only sound I hear
Is a rivulet tinkling near,

Cleo . Charmian!
Char . Madam?
Cleo . Give me to drink mandragora!
Antony and Cleopatra .

I N time when water-lilies shake
Their green and gold on river and lake,
When the cuckoo calls in the heart o' the heat,
When the Dog-star foams and the shade is sweet;
Where cool and fresh the River ran,
I sat by the side of Charmian,
And heard no sound from the world of man.

All was so sweet and still that day!
The rusting shade, the rippling stream,

Oh , sweet and still around the hill
Thy silver waters, Brook, are creeping;
Beneath the hill, as sweet and still,
Thy weary Friend lies sleeping:
A laurel leaf is in his hair,
His eyes are closed to human seeming,
And surely he hath dreams most fair,
If he, indeed, be dreaming.

O Brook! he smiled, a happy child,
Upon thy banks, and loved thy crying,
And, as time flew, thy murmur grew
A trouble purifying;
Till, last, thy laurel leaf he took,
Dream-eyed and tearful, like a woman,
And turned thy haunting cry, O Brook!

O wind-drifted Branch, lift your head to the sun,
For the sap of new life in your veins hath begun,
And a little young bud of the tenderest green
Mine eyes through the snow and the sorrow have seen!

O little green bud, break and blow into flower,
Break and blow through the welcome of sunshine and shower:
'Twas a long night and dreary you hid there forlorn,
But now the cold hills wear the radiance of morn!

And there will be joy in our hearts since you bring
A whisper of Hope and a promise of Spring —

I hung my gift on the hawthorn bush,
Because three sips from the Holy Well
Had hurried the fever out of my veins,
And a pain that no tongue could tell.

And the gift I gave to the good Saint Bride.
Was your little kerchief of spotted blue —
Cailin deas , it had circled your neck,
And was sweet with the warmth of you.

The priest came by as I sat and dreamed
(I dreamed at night and I dreamed at noon),
He laid his kindly hand on my brow —
" Are you hearing a fairy tune?

" Do you hear them sing as you sit and smile? "

My love is coming from over the sea,
Over the sea;
A thousand things I've got for to tell her,
Merrily, merrily;
A thousand things I've got for to give her,
Tenderly, tenderly.

My love is a-come from over the sea,
Over the sea;
But the holy hush of the joy is mine,
Silently, silently,
I can only feel that my love is here,
Here by me, here by me.

My love, my love from over the sea,
Over the sea;
I've nothing to say and nothing to give
Unto thee, unto thee;
Words are so empty and gifts so poor,