After Sensations / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

WHEN the vine again is blowing,

Then the wine moves in the cask;

When the rose again is glowing,

Wherefore should I feel oppress'd?

Down my cheeks run tears all-burning,

If I do, or leave my task;

I but feel a speechless yearning,

That pervades my inmost breast.

But at length I see the reason,

When the question I would ask:

'Twas in such a beauteous season,

Doris glowed to make me blest!