A PARAPHRASE OF HEINE

There fell a star from realms above —

A glittering, glorious star to see!

Methought it was the star of love,

So sweetly it illumined me.

And from the apple branches fell

Blossoms and leaves that time in June;

The wanton breezes wooed them well

With soft caress and amorous tune.

The white swan proudly sailed along

And vied her beauty with her note —

The river, jealous of her song,

Threw up its arms to clasp her throat.

But now — oh, now the dream is past —

The blossoms and the leaves are dead,

The swan's sweet song is hushed at last,

And not a star burns overhead.