Out Of My Own Great Woe I

I Do Not Know The Meaning Of My Sadness; There Is An Old Fairy Tale That I Cannot Get Out Of My Mind.

In Blissful Dream, In Silent Night, There Came To Me, With Magic Might, With Magic Might, My Own Sweet Love, Into My Little Room Above.

The Blossoms And Leaves In Plenty From The Apple Tree Fall Each Day; The Merry Breezes Approach Them, And With Them Merrily Play.

The Night Comes Stealing O'er Me, And Clouds Are On The Sea; While The Wavelets Rustle Before Me With A Mystical Melody.

Glow-worms On The Ground Are Moving, As If In The Torch-dance Circling.