I 1 OUT of my own great woe I make my little songs, Which rustle their feathers in throngs And beat on her heart even so. 2 They found the way, for their part, Yet come again, and complain: Complain, and are not fain To say what they saw in her heart. II 1 Art thou indeed so adverse? Art thou so changed indeed? Against the woman who wrongs me I cry to the world in my need. 2 O recreant lips unthankful, How could ye speak evil, say, Of the man who so well has kissed you On many a fortunate day? III I My child, we were two children, Small, merry by childhood's law; We used to crawl to the hen-house And hide ourselves in the straw. 2 We crowed like cocks, and whenever The passers near us drew -- Cock-a-doodle! they thought 'T was a real cock that crew. 3 The boxes about our courtyard We carpeted to our mind, And lived there both together -- Kept house in a noble kind. 4 The neighbor's old cat often Came to pay us a visit; We made her a bow and curtsey, Each with a compliment in it. 5 After her health we asked Our care and regard to evince -- (We have made the very same speeches To many an old cat since). 6 We also sat and wisely Discoursed, as old folk do, Complaining how all went better In those good times we knew, -- 7 How love and truth and believing Had left the world to itself, And how so dear was the coffee, And how so rare was the pelf. V The children's games are over, The rest is over with youth -- The world, the good games, the good times, The belief, and the love, and the truth. IV I Thou lovest me not, thou lovest me not! 'T is scarcely worth a sigh: Let me look in thy face, and no king in his place Is a gladder man than I. II Thou hatest me well, thou hatest me well -- Thy little red mouth has told: Let it reach me a kiss, and, however it is, My child, I am well consoled. V I My own sweet Love, if thou in the grave, The darksome grave, wilt be, Then will I go down by the side, and crave Love-room for thee and me. II I kiss and caress and press thee wild, Thou still, thou cold, thou white! I wail, I tremble, and weeping mild, Turn to a corpse at the right. III The Dead stand up, the midnight calls, They dance in airy swarms -- We two keep still where the grave-shade falls, And I lie on in thine arms. IV The Dead stand up, the Judgment-day Bids such to weal or woe -- But nought shall trouble us where we stay Embraced and embracing below. VI I The years they come and go, The races drop in the grave, Yet never the love doth so Which here in my heart I have. II Could I see thee but once, one day, And sink down so on my knee, And die in thy sight while I say, 'Lady, I love but thee!' |