Wie singt die Lerche
How prettily the Lark sings


How prettily the lark sings
In the hills and in the vale
At the break of day
When bedewed flowers, crystalline,
Are waiting for the sun to shine.

So, too, my heart, sing
In the fresh morning air,
Though sleepless you have lain there
In grief and pain, supine,
Waiting for the sun to shine.