HE clouds gather fast, the oak woods roar,The damsel paces the green of the shore;The billows are breaking with might, with might,And she pours forth her voice on the darksome night.Her soul with sorrow is moved:—"The heart is dead, and the world is drear,There is nothing remains to live for here;Take home thy little one, Holiest, now,I have tasted the sweetest of things below,For I have both lived and loved!"
HE clouds gather fast, the oak woods roar,The damsel paces the green of the shore;The billows are breaking with might, with might,And she pours forth her voice on the darksome night. Her soul with sorrow is moved:—"The heart is dead, and the world is drear,There is nothing remains to live for here;Take home thy little one, Holiest, now,I have tasted the sweetest of things below, For I have both lived and loved!"