There fell a star from realms above —
A glittering, glorious star to see!
Methought it was the star of love,
So sweetly it illumined me.
And from the apple branches fell
Blossoms and leaves that time in June;
The wanton breezes wooed them well
With soft caress and amorous tune.
The white swan proudly sailed along
And vied her beauty with her note —
The river, jealous of her song,
Threw up its arms to clasp her throat.
But now — oh, now the dream is past —
The blossoms and the leaves are dead,
The swan's sweet song is hushed at last,
And not a star burns overhead.