Verse > Anthologies > Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. > A Harvest of German Verse
Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans.  A Harvest of German Verse.  1916.
By Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff (1788–1857)
THE STARS were so golden and glistening;
I stood by the window alone,
To songs of the post-horn listening,
O’er silent moorland blown.
My heart within me was burning.        5
“To travel—ah, what delight!”
I thought in my secret yearning,
In the glorious summer night.
Two merry youths were walking
By the slope of yonder hill.        10
I heard their singing and talking,
When all about was still:
Of woodlands murmuring mildly,
Ravines from the dizziest height,
Of waterfalls that wildly        15
Pour into the forest’s night.
They sang of marble shining,
Of garden walls o’er-grown,
Where vines are rampantly twining,
Of moon-lit palaces lone,        20
Where maids at the windows are rousing
The music from lutes with delight,
Where murmuring fountains are drowsing
In the glorious summer night.

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