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    by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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    My maiden she proved false to me;

    To hate all joys I soon began,

    Then to a flowing stream I ran,--
    The stream ran past me hastily.

    There stood I fix'd, in mute despair;

    My head swam round as in a dream;

    I well-nigh fell into the stream,
    And earth seem'd with me whirling there.

    Sudden I heard a voice that cried--

    I had just turn'd my face from thence--

    It was a voice to charm each sense:
    "Beware, for deep is yonder tide!"

    A thrill my blood pervaded now,

    I look'd and saw a beauteous maid

    I asked her name--twas Kate, she said--
    "Oh lovely Kate! how kind art thou!

    "From death I have been sav'd by thee,

    'Tis through thee only that I live;

    Little 'twere life alone to give,
    My joy in life then deign to be!"

    And then I told my sorrows o'er,

    Her eyes to earth she sweetly threw;

    I kiss'd her, and she kiss'd me too,
    And--then I talked of death no more.

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