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Poems of Goethe

THE CHOSEN CLIFF.

HERE in silence the lover fondly mused on his loved one;

Gladly he spake to me thus: "Be thou my witness, thou stone!
Yet thou must not be vainglorious, thou hast many companions;

Unto each rock on the plain, where I, the happy one, dwell,
Unto each tree of the wood that I cling to, as onward I ramble,

'Be thou a sign of my bliss!' shout I, and then 'tis ordain'd.
Yet to thee only I lend a voice, as a Muse from the people

Chooseth one for herself, kissing his lips as a friend."

                                1782.