Four Songs , opus 56

Happy days and summer roses
Vanish one by one;
Ev'ry rose her petals loses,
Ev'ry day its sun.

Now the goldenrod is swinging
Radiant in the air,
The wild grape still is clinging
High inpurple rare.
Ah!

Happy days and joyous roses,
Come again in Spring;
Winter then in sleep reposes
And to thee I'll sing,
To thee I'll sing! 

Go not too far, too far beyond my gaze,
Thou who canst never pass beyond the yearning
Which, even as the dark for dawning stays,
Awaits thy loved returning !
 
Go not too far ! Howe'er thy fancies roam,
Let them come back, wide-circling like the swallow,
Lest I, for very need, should try to come
And find I could not follow !

I know not how to find the Spring
Though violets are here,
And in the boughs high over me
The birds are fluting clear.

The magic and the melody,
The rapture all are fled
And could they wake, they would but break
My heart, now you are dead. 

Her eyes are dark and soft and blue,
She's light-stepped as the roe;
O Shena Van, my heart is true
To you where'er you go!

I wish that I were by the rills
Above the Alltcambân;
And wand'ring with me o'er the hills
My own dear Shena Van!

Far other sights and scenes I view:
The year goes out in snow,
O Shena Van, my heart is true
To you, where'er you go!