HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

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THE WOMAN IN THE NORTH.
Far in the North there dwells
A woman, a fair woman, queenly fair.
About her tall and slender cypress-form
A garment, white and soft, clings tenderly.
A haze of dusky locks.
Escaping from a braided crown of hair,
Hovers, a tender cloud,
About the pale, sweet face :
While from the pale, sweet face
Shine mighty eyes, that gleam.
Like a black sun.
How often, 0 black sun.
And with what rapture, have I drawn
from thee
The wild, consuming soul-inspiring
flame.
And stood before thee, reeling, drunk
with fire. —
Then on thy proud and noble lips there
dawned
A gentle smile, while from those noble
lips
Breathed forth some word, as soft as
moonlight is
And tender as the perfume of the rose.
Then would my soul arise,
And, like an eagle, take its flight to
heaven.