Euphrosyne

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Auch von des höchsten Gebirgs beeisten zackigen Gipfeln
     Schwindet Purpur und Glanz scheidender Sonne hinweg,
Lange deckt Nacht schon das Thal und die Pfade des Wandrers,
     Der am tosenden Strom, auf zu der Hütte sich sehnt,
Zu dem Ziele des Tags, der stillen hirtlichen Wohnung,
     Und der göttliche Schlaf eilet gefällig voraus,
Dieser holde Geselle des Reisenden. Daß er auch heute,
     Segnend, kränze das Haupt mir mit dem heiligen Mohn!
Aber was leuchtet mir dort vom Felsen glänzend herüber?
     Und erhellet den Duft schäumender Ströme so hold?

Collection: 
German
1799
Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

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