The latest light of evening
Upon the waters shone,
And still we sat in the lonely hut,
In silence and alone.
The sea-fog grew, the screaming mew
Rose on the water's swell,
And silently in her gentle eye
Gathered the tears and fell
.
I saw them stand on the lily hand,
Upon my knee I sank,
And, kneeling there, from her fingers fair
The precious dew I drank.
And sense and power, since that sad hour,
In longing waste away ;
Ah me ! I fear, in each witching tear
Some subtile poison lay.
if tears alone when shed can unnerve most men and sometimes steal a man's heart, then bewitched a man could surely be, if he drank the precious dew of tears fresh shed from a gentle eye upon his knee directly from a lily white hand
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A Proud Man Slain By A Lily White Hand if tears alone when shed can unnerve most men sometimes steal a proud man's heart; then bewitched a man could surely be; if he drank the precious dew of tears fresh shed; from a gentle eye upon his knee, directly, from a lily white hand; Copyright © Terence George Craddock Inspired by the poem 'The Tear' by the poet Heinrich Heine Dedicated to the poet Henrich Heine.