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| LOVELY was the night in May, | |
| Silver clouds were sailing | |
| High above the spring array, | |
| Through the heavens trailing. | |
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| Field and forest lay and slept, | 5 |
| Every path was lonely; | |
| On the streets the watch was kept | |
| By the moonshine only. | |
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| But the breeze was whispering, | |
| Ever mildly sweeping, | 10 |
| Where the children of the spring | |
| All lay calmly sleeping. | |
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| Gently crept the little brook; | |
| Dreams of flowers blooming | |
| Spread through every quiet nook, | 15 |
| Joyously perfuming. | |
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| My postillion was more rough, | |
| Snapped his horse-whip loudly; | |
| Over valley, hill and bluff | |
| Blew his bugle proudly. | 20 |
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| Hoofs of nimble horses four | |
| Beat in sprightly measure, | |
| Through the forest evermore | |
| Trotting on with pleasure. | |
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| Wood and field were sweeping past, | 25 |
| Scarcely seen—then banished; | |
| Like the flight of dreams, so fast | |
| Peaceful hamlets vanished! | |
| |
| Girded round by joys of spring | |
| Lay a graveyard yonder, | 30 |
| Wanderers admonishing | |
| There to halt and ponder. | |
| |
| Gray against the mountainside, | |
| Ancient walls were leaning; | |
| Sadly stood the Crucified | 35 |
| High, in silent meaning. | |
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| On my rider’s spirits gay | |
| Sadness fell, subduing, | |
| And he made the horses stay; | |
| Spoke, the Cross there viewing: | 40 |
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| “Horse and wheel must stop right here, | |
| Though it may be trying: | |
| Yonder is my comrade dear | |
| In the cool earth lying. | |
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| “’Twas a fellow good and true— | 45 |
| Sir, it is a pity! | |
| No one like my comrade blew | |
| On the horn a ditty. | |
| |
| “Here I always stop and blow | |
| Songs dear to the other | 50 |
| Lying in the earth below— | |
| Greetings from a brother!” | |
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| To the churchyard songs of cheer | |
| He sent gaily swelling; | |
| These should reach the brother’s ear | 55 |
| In his peaceful dwelling. | |
| |
| Far the bugle’s voice was borne, | |
| From the mountains ringing, | |
| And the dead postillion’s horn | |
| Seemed to join the singing. | 60 |
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| On we rode with slackened rein, | |
| Through the landscape bounding; | |
| Long the echo’s glad refrain | |
| In my ears was sounding. | |
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