The morning sun serenely warms and gilds
The rye and corn still damp in dewy fields,
The sky has kept the freshness of the night.
One wanders out just for the sake of it,
Beside the river with dim yellow weeds,
Along a grass path edged by alder-trees.
The air is sharp. At times a bird will soar,
Bearing some honey from the hedge, or straw,
And it’s reflection lingers, when it’s gone.
That’s all.
But it delights the pensive man,
For, bright and gentle, with a swift caress
It’s stirred his dream of wondrous happiness,
Recalled a girl, the charming vision,
The white and sparkling apparition
The poet dreams of, and the man holds dear,
Invoking in his prayers, though some may sneer,
The spouse he has found at last, the soul adored
Which, from the first, his soul has mourned, implored.
