Ecce Homo Complete Works, Volume Seventeen · Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
AUTUMN[4]
'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away! fly away!-- The sun creeps 'gainst the hill And climbs and climbs And rests at every step. How faded grew the world! On weary, slackened strings the wind Playeth his tune. Fair Hope fled far-- He waileth after. 'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away! fly away! O fruit of the tree, Thou tremblest, fallest? What secret whispered unto thee The Night, That icy shudders deck thy cheek, Thy cheek of purple hue? Silent art thou, nor dost reply-- Who speaketh still?-- 'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away! fly away!-- "I am not fair,"-- So speaks the lone star-flower,-- "Yet men I love And comfort men-- Many flowers shall they behold, And stoop to me, And break me, ah!-- So that within their eyes shall gleam Remembrance swift, _Remembrance of far fairer things than I_:-- I see it--see it--and I perish so." 'Tis Autumn:--Autumn yet shall break thy heart! Fly away! fly away! Maiden, in gentle wise You stroke your lamb's soft fleece, Yet flashing from your eyes Both light and flame ne'er cease. Creature of merry jest And favourite near and far, Pious with kindness blest, Amorosissima! What broke so soon the chain, What does your heart deplore? And who, pray, would not fain, If you loved him, adore?-- You're mute, but from your eye, The tear-drop is not far, You're mute: you'll yearn and die, Amorosissima?
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.