202
Paraphrases on Heine.
II.
Straight it led me to her house, I kist the stepping stone,O'er which her little feet had tripped, Her garments' trail oft gone.
III.
The night was long, the night was cold, And very cold that stone,A pale face from the lattice looked, Lightened by silvery moon.Alice.
XLVII.
I.
HOU art like a flower, So lovely, pure, and true,While I gaze, a sadness Steals through my heart anew.II.
O that this hand might lie Once only on thy brow,Praying God to keep thee Lovely and pure as now.
