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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


BOOK OF SONGS: PREFACE by HEINRICH HEINE

First Line: THIS IS THE OLDEN FAIRY WOOD!
Last Line: "HAVE NEVER CEASED TO PONDER."
Subject(s): BIRDS; FORESTS; LOVE; MOON; NIGHTINGALES; SINGING & SINGERS; WOODS; SONGS;

THIS is the olden fairy wood!
The linden blossoms smell sweetly,
The strange mysterious light of the moon
Enchants my senses completely.

I onward went, and as I went,
A voice above me was ringing; --
'Tis surely the nightingale's notes that I hear
Of love and love's sorrows she's singing.

She sings of love and love's sorrows as well,
She sings of smiling and aching,
She sadly exults, she joyfully sobs,
Forgotten visions awaking.

I onward went, and as I went,
I saw before me lying,
On open ground, a castle vast,
With gables in loftiness vying.

The windows were closed, and all things appear'd
To stillness and sadness converted;
It seem'd as though silent death had his home
Within those walls deserted.

A sphinx was lying before the door,
Part comical, part not human;
Its body and paws a lion's were,
With the breasts and head of a woman.

A woman fair! her white eyes spoke
Of yearnings wild but tender;
Her lips, all mute, were closely arch'd,
And smiled a silent surrender.

The nightingale so sweetly sang,
I found it in vain to resist it --
I kiss'd the beauteous face, and, ah!
Was ruined as soon as I kissed it.

The marble figure with life was fill'd,
The stone began sighing and groaning;
She drank my kisses' tremulous glow
With thirsty and eager moaning.

She well night drank my breath away,
And then, with sensual ardour,
Embraced me, while her lion's paws press'd
My body harder and harder.

O blissful torment and rapturous woe!
The pain, like the pleasure, unbounded!
For while the mouth's kisses filled me with joy,
The paws most fearfully wounded.

The nightingale sang: "O beauteous sphinx!
"O loved one, explain the reason
"Why all thy raptures with pains of death
"Are mingled, in cruel treason?

"O beauteous sphinx! explain to me
"The riddle so full of wonder!
"I over it many a thousand years
"Have never ceased to ponder."



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