HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

I taste still sweeter sugar-plums,
Stuffed with whipped cream.
And the sweetest of all things I taste,
The sweets of loving and of being loved!
"She loves me, she loves me, the dear girl!
Now stands she at home on the balcony of her house,
And gazes forth in the twilight upon the street.
And listens and yearns for me,—really!
Vainly does she glance around, and sigh,
And sighing she descends to the garden,
And wanders midst the fragrance and the moonlight,
And talks to the flowers, and tells them
How I, her beloved, am so lovely and so lovable—
reallv!
Later in her bed, in her sleep, in her dreams,
Blissfully she hovers about my precious image.
So that in the morning at breakfast
Upon the glistening buttered bread,
She sees my smiling face.
And she devours it for sheer love—really!"
Thus boasted and boasted he.
And meanwhile screamed the sea-mews.
As with cold, ironical tittering
1 he twilight mists ascended.
Uncannily forth from lilac clouds
Peered the greenish-yellow moon.
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