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A poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe |
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Preservation |
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Title: Preservation Author: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe [More Titles by Goethe] My maiden she proved false to me; To hate all joys I soon began, Then to a flowing stream I ran,-- There stood I fix'd, in mute despair; My head swam round as in a dream; I well-nigh fell into the stream, Sudden I heard a voice that cried-- I had just turn'd my face from thence-- It was a voice to charm each sense: A thrill my blood pervaded now, I look'd and saw a beauteous maid I asked her name--twas Kate, she said-- "From death I have been sav'd by thee, 'Tis through thee only that I live; Little 'twere life alone to give, And then I told my sorrows o'er, Her eyes to earth she sweetly threw; I kiss'd her, and she kiss'd me too,
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