Wake, happy heart, O awake!
For the mists are flitting away;
And the hawthorn boughs for thy sake
Are eager and longing to break
Into garlands of blossoming spray.
Sing, sing it, O gay little linnet!
And hasten, O glad lark, to bring it,
The beautiful Day!
O Dawn, I am hungry with yearning
For gifts thou canst give;—
The proud soul within me is burning
With new life to live.
I am strong with the strength of long sleeping;
Fill full now each vein
With rich crimson wine thou art keeping
For glad hearts to drain!
O hush! for the clouds break asunder;
Her delicate feet
Touch the hills with a reverent wonder
If earth will be sweet.
And the heart that within me was breaking
With longing for her,
Breaks utterly, now that awaking
I hear her low stir.
So frail and so dainty and tender;
What heart could foresee
That the goddess it longed for, a slender
Young fairy would be?
Empty-handed, she dreads my displeasure,
And turns half away;
’Tis for me then to give of my treasure,
O beautiful Day!
Appealing, she waits till I greet her,
With no gifts for me;
Dear Day, after all it is sweeter
For me to crown thee!
If I am not a happier maiden
Because of thy stay,
Thou shalt be with bright gifts from me laden,
A happier Day!