Wilhelm Hauff (1802–1827)

MORNING glow, morning glow,

For my death thou gleamest so;

Soon the trumpet will be blowing,

Unto death I must be going,

I and many comrades too.

Ere we’ve thought, ere we’ve thought,

Joy unto an end is brought.

Yesterday on proud steeds flying,

Shot to-day, in anguish lying,

And to-morrow in the grave.

Soon, alas, soon, alas,

Strength and beauty have to pass.

Though in youthful pride thou glowest,

Cheeks so fair and ruddy showest:

Ah, the roses all must fade!

To what end, to what end

Doth man’s joy and cunning tend?

Under care and sorrow bending,

He must follow toil unending

E’en from morning until night.

So be still, so be still!

I will yield to God’s own will,

Fight with spirit when they call me,

And if death should soon befall me,

Then there dies a rider brave.