GIVE me thy hand, dear friend, and let me take thee
Into my palace-home and garden fair,
Beside me follow close, ah, it will make thee
Still dearer, sweetest friend, to see thee there.
Give me thy hand, dear friend, and let me show thee
The peaceful resting places in the shade,
Where the stream, flowing pleasantly below thee,
Stills each unquiet thought the day has made.
* * * * *
No, no, dear friend, my palace-home is lonely,
No hand but mine may pluck the flowers there,
And, since for me they bud and blossom only,
Thou canst not tell me that they are not fair.