Night, Dim Night
Night, dim night, and it rains, my love, it rains,(Art thou dreaming of me, I wonder)The trees are sad, and the wind complains,Outside the rolling of the thunder,And the beat against the panes.
Heart, my heart, thou art mournful in the rain,(Are thy redolent lips a-quiver?)My soul seeks thine, doth it seek in vain?My love goes surging like a river,Shall its tide bear naught save pain?