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Evening Songs
VI
What charm is there in love for us,
My God, and why we love it?
The world would all dissolve in it
And lives all in love of it.
The little cloud sails through the sky
As though love’s message drove it;
The little bird that sleeps in twigs
Is dreaming only of it.
And here, too, on the earth the man,
While death his head does covet,
He weeps, rejoices, longs and lives
And dies for the sake of it.
Indeed, the heaven’s angel choir
With their harps’ music prove it—
What would they sing, if not allowed
To play and to sing of it!
16
