To Mignon.

Over vale and torrent far     Rolls along the sun's bright car.     Ah! he wakens in his course     Mine, as thy deep-seated smart     In the heart.     Ev'ry morning with new force.     Scarce avails night aught to me;     E'en the visions that I see     Come but in a mournful guise;     And I feel this silent smart     In my heart     With creative pow'r arise.     During many a beauteous year     I have seen ships 'neath me steer,     As they seek the shelt'ring bay;     But, alas, each lasting smart     In my heart     Floats not with the stream away.     I must wear a gala dress,     Long stored up within my press,     For to-day to feasts is given;     None know with what bitter smart     Is my heart     Fearfully and madly riven.     Secretly I weep each tear,     Yet can cheerful e'en appear,     With a face of healthy red;     For if deadly were this silent smart     In my heart,     Ah, I then had long been dead!