Who's riding so late through th' endless wild? The father 't is with his infant child; He thinks the boy 's well off in his arm, He grasps him tightly, he keeps him warm. My son, say why are you hiding your face ? - Oh father, the Erlking 's coming apace, The Erlking 's here with his train and crown! - My son, the fog moves up and down. - Be good, my child, come, go with me! I know nice games, will play them with thee, And flowers thou 'It find near by where I live, pretty dress my mother will give." Dear father, oh father, and do you not hear What th' Erlking whispers so close to my ear? - Be quiet, do be quiet, my son, Through leaves the wind is rustling anon. - Do come, my darling, oh come with me! Good care my daughters will take of thee, My daughters will dance about thee in a ring, Will rock thee to sleep and will prettily sing." Dear father, oh father, and do you not see The Erlking's daughters so near to me?_ My son, my son, no one 's in our way, The willows are looking unusually gray. - I love thee, thy beauty I covet and choose, Be willing, my darling, or force I shall use! "Dear father, oh father, he seizes my arm! The Erlking, father, has done me harm. - The father shudders, he darts through the wild; With agony fill him the groans of his child. He reached his farm with fear and dread; The infant son in his arms was dead.