Poems and Ballads of Heinrich Heine Part 10

Only once more I would see thee, And make thee a low salaam, And with my dying breath, murmur: "I love you still, Madame!"

XXVIII.

I dreamed that the moon looked sadly down, And the stars with a troubled ray; I went to my sweetheart's home--the town Lies many a league away.

My longing led me before her door; I kissed the stone steps brown, That her feet had touched in the days of yore, And the trailing hem of her gown.

The night was long, the night was cold, Ice-cold did the stone steps seem.

In the window her own wan face, behold!

Illumed by the moon's pale beam.

XXIX.

What means this lonely tear-drop That blurs my troubled sight, From olden times returning Back to mine eyes to-night?

Its many glimmering sisters Are vanished long ago, In the night and the wind they vanished With all my joy and my woe.

And like the mists of evening Did those blue stars depart, That smiled all joys and sorrows Into my trusting heart.

Alas! my love, too, melted Like idle breath one day; Oh lingering, lonely tear-drop, Thou also fade away!

x.x.x.

The pale half-moon of autumn Through clouds peers doubtfully.

Within the lonely churchyard The parsonage I see.

The mother reads in her Bible, The son at the light doth gaze; One drowsy daughter is nodding, While another speaks and says:

"Ah me! how dreary the days are!

How dull, and dark, and mean!

Only when there's a funeral Is anything to be seen."

The mother looks from her Bible: "Nay, only four in all Have died since thy father was buried Without by the churchyard wall."

Then yawns the eldest daughter, "I will starve no longer here; I will go to the Count to-morrow, He is rich, and he loves me dear."

The son bursts out a-laughing: "At the 'Star' three huntsmen drink deep; They are making gold, and they promise To give me their secret to keep."

Toward his lean face, flings the mother Her Bible, in wrath and grief.

"Out! G.o.d-forsaken beggar, Thou wilt be a common thief!"

They hear a tap on the window, And behold a beckoning hand.

There in his sable vestments They see the dead father stand.

x.x.xI.

To-night is wretched weather, It snows, and storms, and rains; Out in the pitch-black darkness I gaze through the window-panes.

There flickers a lonely candle, Slow winding down the street; And a beldame, with her lantern, Goes hobbling on in the sleet.

I think 'tis for eggs and b.u.t.ter That she braves this weather wild, To bake a cake for her daughter, Her grown-up ailing child.

Who lies at home in her arm-chair, And sleepily blinks at the light.

Over her beautiful forehead Her golden curls wave bright.

x.x.xII.

They think my heart is breaking, In sorrow's bitter yoke, I too begin to think it, As well as other folk.

Thou large-eyed little darling, Do I not always say I love thee past all telling-- Love gnaws my heart away?

But only in my chamber I dare express my pain; For always in thy presence Quite silent I remain.

For there were evil angels Who sealed my lips so close.

And oh! from evil angels Sprang all my wretched woes.

x.x.xIII.

Ah, those pure white lily fingers, Once again could I but kiss them, Press them close against my heart, Melt away in silent weeping!

Oh, those clearest eyes of violet Hover day and night before me, And I ponder o'er the meaning Of those lovely blue enigmas.

x.x.xIV.

"Did she ne'er express compa.s.sion For thy tender situation?

Could'st thou never in her glances Read thy love's reciprocation?

"Could'st thou ne'er surprise the spirit In her bright eyes unawares?

Yet thou surely art no donkey, Dearest friend, in these affairs!"

x.x.xV.

They loved one another, but neither Confessed a word thereof.

They met with coldest glances, Though pining away with love.

At last they parted; their spirits Met but in visions rare.

They are long since dead and buried, Though scarcely themselves aware.

x.x.xVI.