I think of thee when golden sunbeams glimmer
Across the sea;
And when the waves reflect the moon’s pale shimmer
I think of thee.
I see thy form when down the distant highway
The dust-clouds rise;
In darkest night, above the mountain by-way
I see thine eyes.
I hear thee when the ocean-tides returning
Aloud rejoice;
And on the lonely moor in silence yearning
I hear thy voice.
I dwell with thee; though thou art far removed,
Yet thou art near.
The sun goes down, the stars shine out—Beloved
If thou wert here!
From the German of Goethe, 1898.