Alide by Emma Lazarus

The wind had subsided in the night, and one of those rare soft days that belong to the golden weather called St. Martin's summer, shone from the cloudless skies. A pale, blue-green haze overhung the earth; the breath of the air had something indescribably caressing. If one had looked only at the fresh verdure of the pasture-slopes, the dusky foliage of the vineyards, or the brilliant bloom of the garden, it would not have been difficult to fancy that the glory of the year was just developing; but along the woodland paths, and in the despoiled orchard, the bare branches and the crumpled brown leaves underfoot told a different tale, and lent the pathetic grace of evanescence to the exquisite scene. Clear and musical through the still atmosphere pealed the village church bells; but after the noise of Strasburg every sound made music to Goethe, as he walked by the side of Alide along the sweet fading fields, with the Sabbath quiet in the air.

They had much to tell each other, for they now lived over together the days they had passed apart; now did Alide confess that her heart had prophesied his coming, and now she imparted to him her own serenity. The more familiar he became with this white maiden-soul, the more was he astonished at the circumspect cheerfulness, the naïveté combined with self-consciousness, the good and lovable qualities which at every word revealed themselves. He could discern, from the friendly greetings of the peasants whom they met, that she was benevolent and promoted their comfort. How many hours of such unalloyed happiness dare one promise one's self from life? And yet these two filled this perfect moment by looking forward and backward. They arranged their plans for the day, and decided how, among all the guests and the various amusements, they would keep together in the dance and the game.