"SO IT HAPPENS."
FROM THE GERMAN OF EMANUEL GEIBEL.
"He loves thee not," so spake they to her cold;
"He trifles with thee;" then she bowed her head,
And down her cheeks, like dew from roses, rolled
The tears fast welling at each word they said;
Oh! why did she believe! for when he came
Her doubtings angered him; a seeming light
He held through all, lie spoke and smiled the same,
And waited—waited to weep through the night!
"He trifles with thee;" then she bowed her head,
And down her cheeks, like dew from roses, rolled
The tears fast welling at each word they said;
Oh! why did she believe! for when he came
Her doubtings angered him; a seeming light
He held through all, lie spoke and smiled the same,
And waited—waited to weep through the night!
Still knocked a better angel at her heart,
"Yet is he true, give, give thy hand again;"
Still felt he through that bitterness and smart,
"She loves thee yet, she loves thee now as then;
Speak but one word, hear but one greeting kind,
So is the spell that lies betwixt you broken."
Once more they met; oh, Pride is harsh and blind,
That word, that only word remained unspoken.
"Yet is he true, give, give thy hand again;"
Still felt he through that bitterness and smart,
"She loves thee yet, she loves thee now as then;
Speak but one word, hear but one greeting kind,
So is the spell that lies betwixt you broken."
Once more they met; oh, Pride is harsh and blind,
That word, that only word remained unspoken.
So parted they, and as within the choir
Of some great Minster, wanes the altar-light
Of some great Minster, wanes the altar-light
