Wie bist [Du so]1 schön, o Mädchen,
Du lieblich blühn'des Kind!
Ich glaub' nicht, daß im Sommer
Die Rosen schöner sind.

Bald welkt am Strauch die Rose,
[Ob]2 man sie pflegen mag;
[Allein]3 Du blühest schöner
An jedem neuen Tag.

Die Nachtigall singt lieblich
Dort in dem Wiesengrund,
Doch schön're Töne quellen,
Aus deinem holden Mund.

Auf Deinen süßen [Wangen]4,
Auf Deinen [Lippen]5 lacht
Von tausend frischen Rosen
Die jugendliche Pracht.

Ein Netz aus [goldenen]6 Fäden,
Es ist Dein blondes Haar!
Aus heller Stirne leuchtet
Dein blaues Augenpaar.

Um Deine Lippen schwebet
Froh jugendlich der Scherz;
Doch bleibt von all' dem Schönen
Das schönste doch Dein Herz.

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View text without footnotes

Confirmed with Buch der Lieder von C. Herloßsohn, 2. Aufl. Leipzig, 1849.

¹ Fischer: "Du"
² Fischer: "Wie"
³ Fischer: "Doch du,"
⁴ Fischer: "Lippen"
⁵ Fischer: "Wangen"
⁶ Fischer: "gold'nen"

Text Authorship:

• by Karl Herloß (1804 - 1849), as Karl Herloßsohn, "Louise", appears in Buch der Liebe, in Lieder der Liebe [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

• by Franz Wilhelm Abt (1819 - 1885), "Louise", op. 39 no. 5, published 1846, from 7 Lieder aus dem Buche der Liebe, von C. Herlosssohn, no. 5, Stuttgart : Göpel [sung text not yet checked]
• by Carl Ludwig Fischer (1816 - 1877), "Wie bist du schön", op. 10 (2 Gedichte, von C. Herlosssohn, für Sopran (oder Tenor) mit Pianoforte) no. 1, published 1850 [ soprano or tenor and piano ], Mainz, Schott [sung text checked 1 time]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

• ENG English (Michael P Rosewall) , "Louisa", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Johann Winkler

This text was added to the website: 2011-02-04
Line count: 24
Word count: 114

How beautiful you are, o maiden,
You lovely, budding child!
I do not believe, that in summertime
That the roses could be more beautiful.

Soon the rose will fade on its stem,
So that one will wish to pluck it;
But you alone bloom more beautifully 
On each new day.

The nightingale's song is lovely
There in the meadow,
Yet even more beautiful sounds 
Spring from your tender mouth.

On your sweet cheeks,
And on your lips, 
Like a thousand fresh roses
The glory of youth laughs.

A net of golden filigree
Is your blond hair!
And from a clear brow 
Your two blue eyes sparkle.

Around your lips hovers
The happy, girlish trace of a joke;
Yet still there remains, of all your beauties,
Indeed the most beautiful of all, your heart.