[50]

[50]

 WENN ICH AN DEINEM HAUSE

From the German of Heinrich Heine

I Pass beneath thy dwelling

Each morning, and am fain,

My child, to see thee watching

Still at thy window-pane.

With black-brown eyes of wonder

Thou dost my going scan:

“Who art thou, and what ails thee,

Thou sorrowful foreign man?”

I am a German poet,

Among the Germans famed—

There, when they count their greatest,

My name is also named.

And, little one, what ails me

Ails Germans not a few;

Count they the sorest sorrows,

They name my sorrows too.

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