Classic Poem

Ich bin nun fünfunddreissig Jahr' alt

My years now number five and thirty
And you are scarce fifteen, you sigh . . .
Yet Jenny, when I look upon you,
The old dream wakes that will not die.

In eighteen-seventeen a maiden
Became my sweetheart, fond and true;
Strangely like yours her form and features,
She even wore her hair like you.

That year, before I left for college,
I said, " My own, it will not be
Long till I come back home; — be faithful! "
" You are my world, " she answered me.

Three years I toiled, three years I studied,
And then — it was the first of May —
In Gottingen the tidings reached me:
My love had married and gone away.

It was the first of May! With laughter
The Spring came dancing through the world.
Birds sang; and in the quickening sunshine
Worms stretched themselves and buds uncurled.

And only I grew pale and sickly,
Dead to all beauties and delights;
And only God knows how I suffered
And tossed throughout those wretched nights.

But still I lived. And now my health is
Strong as an oak that seeks the sky. . . .
Yet, Jenny, when I look upon you,
The old dream wakes that will not die.