HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

^tint. 13
A DREAM.
I dreamt I was the Lord Himself,
Throned up in heaven so grandly.
With sweet young angels round my
throne.
Who praised my verses blandly.
And cakes I ate, and comfits, too,
By crownsworths, day by day there ;
With cardinal I washed them down,
And not a groat to pay there.
But sheer ennui it plagued me sore,
I longed on earth to revel,
And were I not the Lord Himself,
Had gone straight to the devil.
" Thou long-legged angel Gabriel,
Put on thy boots directly ;
Seek me my gossip dear, Eugene,
But, mark me, circumspectly.
" Don't look for him in lecture-rooms.
But where Tokay inspires ;
Don't look for him in Hedwig's church.
But snug at Mam'selle Meyer's."
Swift he unfurls his pair of wings.
And down from heaven he flings him.
Picks up my friend, my dear old pal.
And back to heaven he brings him.
" Ay, lad, I am the Lord Himself,
The whole world owns my sway,
man!