Foreshadowings

WIND of the winter night,
Under the starry skies
Somewhere my lady bright,
Slumbering, lies.
Wrapped in calm maiden dreams,
Where the pale moonlight streams,
Softly she sleeps.

I do not know her face,
Pure as the lonely star
That in yon darkling space
Shineth afar;
Never with soft command
Touched I her willing hand,
Kissed I her lips.

I have not heard her voice,
I do not know her name;
Yet doth my heart rejoice,
Owning her claim ;
Yet am I true to her ;
All that is due to her
Sacred I keep.

Never a thought of me
Troubles her soft repose;
Courant of mine may be
Lily nor rose.
They may not bear to her
This heart’s fond prayer to her,
Yet — she is mine.

Wind of the winter night,
Over the fields of snow, Over the hills so white,
Tenderly blow !
Somewhere red roses bloom ;
Into her warm, hushed room,
Bear thou their breath.

Whisper — Nay, nay, thou sprite,
Breathe thou no tender word;
Wind of the winter night,
Die thou unheard.
True love shall yet prevail,
Telling its own sweet tale:
Till then I wait.