7/23/2019 Seara English

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Dreary the horn sounds in the eve on the hill,Sheepflocks return, stars on their way twinkle still,Watersprings weep murmuring clear, and I seeUnder an acacia tree, love, thou art waiting for me.Holy and pure passes the moon on the sky,

Moist seem the stars orn from the vault clear and high,!onging thine eyes look from afar to divine,Heaving thy reast, pensive thy head doth recline."orn#fields right flooded with eams y the clouds steeply drifted,$ld cottage gales of thatch to the moonlight uplifted,%he tall wooden arm of the well in the wind softly grating, &nd the shepherd#oy's pipe from the sheep#pen sad doina relating.%ired with their toil, peasants come ack from the field,(rom the old church, laourer's comfort and shield,)oices of ells thrill the whole sky high aove*Struck is my heart, tremling and urning with love. &h+ very soon uietness steals over all,

 &h+ very soon hasten shall I to thy call,Under the acacia tree, there I shall sit the whole night,%elling thee, love, thou art my only delight.