Joseph Freiherr von Eichendorff (1788–1857)

MY way from the woods I was wending:

There stood the old house still.

My love, as of old, was bending

Far over the window-sill.

Another man she has taken,

I was far in the battle’s din.

How all has turned out!—Ah, forsaken,

I wish a new war would begin!

Her child at the wayside was playing;

Such likeness to her it bore!

I kissed its red lips while saying:

“God bless thee forevermore!”

But she was frightened; I wandered.

She lingered and gazed after me,

And shook her fair locks and pondered,

And knew not who I might be.

The woods were murmuring gladly,

I stood by a tree on the height;

My hunter’s horn I blew sadly:

It throbbed as in dreams through the night.

At morn, when the songbirds dally,

She wept and her heart was sore.

But I was gone far from the valley;

And now she will see me no more.