It is too bright,
It is too bright where moonlight casts its glow.
My heart is by this calm of night transfused and trembles so.
On every bloom,
Each leaf that curls,
Rests evening's string of teardrop pearls,
And quivers to my gaze.
It is too bright,
Too bright the glow here by the water's brink.
Behold the wave's too silent flow,
And mirrored stars that sink.
Till in the watery deep they're bathed,
Seem like forget-me-nots grief-swathed,
Like eyes that sorrow shrouds.
Far yonder to the distant north,
Where fir-trees darkly press,
Where holders in the fell hold forth,
You might well call it wilderness.
There I possess a cherished place.
There I'll direct my steps apace,
My sanctuary's there.
Behold the mountain peaks abrupt,
That muffling clouds enclose.
An autumn storm will soon erupt,
Night's wind already blows.
Oh sweet,
As though I were inspired,
I feel by this same tempest fired,
To journey through the night.
Deep in the woods,
Away,
Away,
Oh further still from here,
Until the soul falls wholly prey to this wild,
Panic fear.
Till your convinced the wraiths of night attend you on your headlong flight,
However swift you speed.
Hush silence now,
This is the spot amidst the forest bound.
Hark owls are shrieking,
Mark you not,
Oh how sublime they sound.
The spruces standing black and tall,
The tarns dourverges crowd.
As through the air the storm winds squall,
Observe the misty shroud.
It glides aloft and then glides down,
Now wraps about the forest crown,
Now covers the black depths.
Here may the heart find such content amid the raging storm.
Here nature's visit can present my rest in mirrored form.