The first approach of the sweet spring
Returning here once more,—
The memory of the love that holds
In my fond heart such power,—
The thrush again his song assaying,—
The little rills o'er pebbles playing,
And sparkling as they fall,—
The memory recall
Of her on whom my heart's desire
Is, shall be, fixed till I expire.
With every season fresh and new
That love is more inspiring:
Her eyes, her face, all bright with joy,—
Her coming, her retiring,
Her faithful words, her winning ways,—
That sweet look, kindling up the blaze,
Of love, so gently still,
To wound, but not to kill,—
So that when most I weep and sigh,
So much the higher springs my joy.
Notes
Translated by Taylor.
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Comments
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Well, indeed a very lovely description of spring in this simple poem. Very well written, and well translated too.
Worth a read!
Ankita -
found your site as I have been trying to find out whether my surname as in America since 1767....is derived from the name Couci or Coucy....(mine is: Couey) still don't know how to discover that....BUT am wondering how the poetry translates into English with the rhyming intact.....????
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