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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - The Happy Couple
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AFTER these vernal rains

That we so warmly sought,
Dear wife, see how our plains

With blessings sweet are fraught!
We cast our distant gaze

Far in the misty blue;
Here gentle love still strays,

Here dwells still rapture true.

Thou seest whither go

Yon pair of pigeons white,
Where swelling violets blow

Round sunny foliage bright.
`Twas there we gather`d first

A nosegay as we roved;
There into flame first burst

The passion that we proved.

Yet when, with plighted troth,

The priest beheld us fare
Home from the altar both,

With many a youthful pair,—
Then other moons had birth,

And many a beauteous sun,
Then we had gain`d the earth

Whereon life`s race to run.

A hundred thousand fold

The mighty bond was seal`d;
In woods, on mountains cold,

In bushes, in the field,
Within the wall, in caves,

And on the craggy height,
And love, e`en o`er the waves,

Bore in his tube the light.

Contented we remain`d,

We deem`d ourselves a pair;
`Twas otherwise ordain`d,

For, lo! a third was there;
A fourth, fifth, sixth appear`d,

And sat around our board;
And now the plants we`ve rear`d

High o`er our heads have soar`d!

How fair and pleasant looks,

On yonder beauteous spot,
Embraced by poplar-brooks,

The newly-finish`d cot!
Who is it there that sits

In that glad home above?
Is`t not our darling Fritz

With his own darling love?

Beside yon precipice,

Whence pent-up waters steal,
And leaving the abyss,

Fall foaming through the wheel,
Though people often tell

Of millers` wives so fair,
Yet none can e`er excel

Our dearest daughter there!

Yet where the thick-set green

Stands round yon church and sad,
Where the old fir-tree`s seen

Alone tow`rd heaven to nod,—
`Tis there the ashes lie

Of our untimely dead;
From earth our gaze on high

By their blest memory`s led.

See how yon hill is bright

With billowy-waving arms!
The force returns, whose might

Has vanquished war`s alarms.
Who proudly hastens here

With wreath-encircled brow?
`Tis like our child so dear

Thus Charles comes homeward now.

That dearest honour`d guest

Is welcom`d by the bride;
She makes the true one blest,

At the glad festal tide.
And ev`ry one makes haste

To join the dance with glee;
While thou with wreaths hast graced

The youngest children three.

To sound of flute and horn

The time appears renew`d,
When we, in love`s young morn,

In the glad dance upstood;
And perfect bliss I know

Ere the year`s course is run,
For to the font we go

With grandson and with son!
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