HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

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THE MINOR UNDERTONE.
The sun in May shines brightly,
Yet so sad, so sad am I;
I lean against the lime-tree
Far up on the ramparts high.
Below me the blue waters
Sleep calm in the city moat;
And the while a boy is whistling
As he fishes from his boat.
Along the bank bright pictures
Are outstretched on yonder side —
Meadows and cattle — houses.
And gardens and woodlands wide.
The maids are bleaching linen.
They trip down the grassy way ; —
I can hear the mill-wheel humming
As it showers its diamond spray.
A sentry-box is standing
On the gray old tower below;
A scarlet-coated soldier
Paces ever to and fro.
He turns and moves his musket.
It shines in the sunlight red ;
Now he presents and shoulders —
I wish he would shoot me dead.