Sonnet to Sehnsucht
When dew adorns the willow’s drooping bough,
And mist veils where thy gentle steps did stray,
I watch in silence, not to mar thy vow—
Sehnsucht, the sigh that dares not name its sway.
I do not call, nor let my heart betray
The thought that hums where silence holds its reign;
’Tis like a stream that bends, yet finds its way
To kiss the stone it may not ever gain.
Gone is the step I watched fade down the lane,
Yet still I turn, as one who waits in vain—
Not with a cry, but with a quiet pain
That dwells, unclaimed, where gentle hopes remain.
Thus doth my soul its silent vigil keep:
Thy distant light is all my heart can seek.