THE POET'S WISH

Translated from the German of Korner by Sir Tollemache Sinclair. Though no maiden fickle Weep above my tomb. There the flowers will trickle Dew drops from their bloom.

Should my grave no finger Show to passers by, There the moon will linger In her path on high.

Though in death when sleeping Never foot intrude, The dew will then be weeping On the turf and wood.

Forests, flowers, dear river.

Moon, stars, and grand sea, Parting makes me quiver, Ah ! think oft- of me.