Eduard Mörike (1804–1875)

EARLY when cocks still crow,

Ere the stars retire,

I to the stove must go

To start the fire.

Beautiful gleams the blaze,

Sparks gaily glow,

And so I gaze and gaze,

All lost in woe.

Then it comes over me,

Thou faithless lad:

Last night I dreamed of thee,

All dreams I had.

Tear upon tear must run

Wildly anon:

Thus is the day begun—

Would it were gone!