Then give me back the years again,

When mine own spirit too was growing,

When my whole being was a vein

Of thronging songs within me flowing!

Then slept the world in misty blue,

Each bud the nascent wonder cherished,

And all for me the flowerets grew,

That on each meadow richly flourished.

Though I had nothing then, I had a treasure,

The thirst for truth, and in illusion pleasure.

Give me the free, unshackled pinion,

The height of joy, the depth of pain,

Strong hate, and stronger love’s dominion;

O give me back my youth again!

Merryfellow.

Merryfellow.

The fire of youth, good friend, you need, of course,

Into the hostile ranks to break,

Or, when the loveliest damsels hang by force,

With amorous clinging, from your neck,

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