Henry Brocken Song Cycle, op. 88

Pilgrim forget; in this dark tide
Sinks the salt tear to peace at last;
Here undeluding dreams abide,
All sorrow past.
Nods the wild ivy on her stem;
The voiceless bird broods on the bough;
The silence and the song of them
Untroubled now.
Free that poor captive's flutterings,
That struggles in thy tired eyes,
Solace its discontented wings,
Quiet its cries!
Knells now the dewdrop to its fall,
The sad wind sleeps no more to rove;
Rest, for my arms ambrosial
Ache for thy love!

You take my heart with tears;
I battle uselessly;
Reft of all hopes and doubts and fears,
Lie quietly.
You veil my heart with cloud;
Since faith is dim and blind,
I can but grope perplex'd and bow'd,
Seek till I find.
Yet bonds are life to me;
How else could I perceive
The love in each wild artery
That bids me live?

The goodman said,
"'Tis time for bed,
Come, mistress, get us quick to pray;
Call in the maids
From out the glades
Where they with lovers stray,
With love, and love do stray."
"Nay, master mine,
The night is fine,
And time's enough all dark to pray;
'Tis April buds
Bedeck the woods
Where simple maids away
With love, and love do stray.
"Now we are old,
And nigh the mould,
'Tis meet on feeble knees to pray;
When once we'd roam,
'Twas else cried, 'Come,
And sigh the dusk away,
With love, and love to stray.'"
So they gat in
To pray till nine;
Then called, "Come maids, true maids, away!
Kiss and begone,
Ha' done, ha' done,
Until another day
With love, and love to stray!"
Oh, it were best
If so to rest
Went man and maid in peace away!
The throes a heart
May make to smart
Unless love have his way,
In April woods to stray! --
In April woods to stray!