HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

I^etne* 47
Grete and Hans were wed this morn.
And shine in bright array;
But ah, poor Peter stands forlorn.
Dressed for a working-day:
He mutters, as with wistful eyes
He gazes at them still:
" 'Twere easy — were I not too wise -
To do myself some ill "
II.
" An aching sorrow fills my breast.
My heart is like to break;
It leaves me neither peace nor rest.
And all for Crete's sake.
" It drives me to her side, as though
She still could comfort me ;
But in her eyes there's something now
That makes me turn and flee.
"I climb the highest hill-top where
I am at least alone:
And standing in the stillness there
I weep and make my moan."
IIL
Poor Peter wanders slowly by;
So pale is he, so dull and shy,'
The very neighbors in the street
Turn round to gaze, when him they
meet.