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TRANSLATION FROM GOETHE.

	HOW comes it that thou art so sad
	When round all joy appears?
	And why, upon thy heavy lids
	Is seen the trace of tears?
	"And if I will to weep alone
	"It is mine own annoy,
	"And there are tears that flow so sweet
	"They wear the guise of joy."

	Thy careful friends do bid thee forth,
	O come into their throng,
	And this thy cause of secret grief,
	Trust it their hearts among.
	"Ye shout and drink, and think the while
	"That ye can ease my pain,
	"Alas, I weep not aught I've lost,
	"But what I ne'er shall gain."

	Come, rouse thee from this heavy mood
	Stout heart can marvels do,
	At thy young years of April prime
	Men have the gift to woo.
	"Alas, I have no heart to woo,
	"My aim is all too high,
	"As bright and far as yonder stars
	"That gem the deep dark sky."

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	Nor hurt nor harm the stars can do,
	And healing is their light,
	With thankfulness, and awe, and joy,
	We hail them in the night.
	"With awe, and joy, and thankfulness,
	"I gaze the live-long day,
	"But I must weep the weary night
	"So long as weep I may."