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- How my poor heart, without relief, Trembles and throbs, its yearning grief Thou knowest, thou alone!
- Still for the fond illusion yearns my soul?
- A yearning long unfelt, each impulse swaying, To yon calm spirit-realm uplifts my soul; In faltering cadence, as when Zephyr playing, Fans the Aeolian harp, my numbers roll; Tear follows tear, my steadfast heart obeying The tender impulse, loses its control; What I possess as from afar I see; Those I have lost become realities to me.
- Ye breasts, ye fountains of all life, whereon Hang heaven and earth, from which the withered heart For solace yearns, ye still impart Your sweet and fostering tides—where are ye—where?
- Thou hollow skull, that grin, what should it say, But that thy brain, like mine, of old perplexed, Still yearning for the truth, hath sought the light of day.
- Then would celestial love, with holy kiss, Come o'er me in the Sabbath's stilly hour, While, fraught with solemn meaning and mysterious Chim'd the deep-sounding bell, and prayer was bliss; A yearning impulse, undefin'd yet dear, Drove me to wander on through wood and field; With heaving breast and many a burning tear, I felt with holy joy a world reveal'd.
- Yearning he left his own, Mid sore annoy; Ah! we must needs bemoan.
- Full oft this sad experience hath been mine; Nathless the want admits of compensation; For things above the earth we learn to pine, Our spirits yearn for revelation, Which nowhere burns with purer beauty blent, Than here in the New Testament.
- Fond yearning love, inspire my breast, Feeding on hope's sweet dew thy blissful pains!
- MEPHISTOPHELES What super-earthly ecstasy! at night, To lie in darkness on the dewy height, Embracing heaven and earth in rapture high, The soul dilating to a deity; With prescient yearnings pierce the core of earth, Feel in your labouring breast the six-days' birth, Enjoy, in proud delight what no one knows, While your love-rapture o'er creation flows,— The earthly lost in beatific vision, And then the lofty intuition—.
- Towards all beside I have a kindly mood; Yet, though I yearn to gaze on thee, I feel At sight of him strange horror o'er me steal; That he's a villain my conviction's strong.
There are no more uses of "yearn" in Faust -- Part 1 (translated by Theil).
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