Everything that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear.
Let us away, my love, with happy speed; There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, - Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead. Awake! arise! my love and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity.
Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.
I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention.