Poet Betrayed, The: Heinrich Heine and Clinton Scollard Construct a Rondeau -
H EINRICH H EINE and C LINTON S COLLARD Construct a Rondeau.
Immortal eyes, why do they never die?
They come between me and the cheerful sky
And take the place of every sphinx-like star.
They haunt me always, always; and they mar
The comfort of my sleek tranquility.
In dreams you lean your cheek on mine and sigh;
And all the old, caressing words float by.
They haunt me always, always; yet they are
Immortal lies.
Oh love of mine, half-queen, half-butterfly,
You tore my soul to hear its dying cry,
And soiled my purpose with a deathless scar.
Go then, my broken songs, go near and far
And woman's love and her inconstancy Immortalize.
Immortal eyes, why do they never die?
They come between me and the cheerful sky
And take the place of every sphinx-like star.
They haunt me always, always; and they mar
The comfort of my sleek tranquility.
In dreams you lean your cheek on mine and sigh;
And all the old, caressing words float by.
They haunt me always, always; yet they are
Immortal lies.
Oh love of mine, half-queen, half-butterfly,
You tore my soul to hear its dying cry,
And soiled my purpose with a deathless scar.
Go then, my broken songs, go near and far
And woman's love and her inconstancy Immortalize.
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