My parents bow, and lead them forth,
For all the crowd to see-
Ah well! the people might not care
To cheer a dwarf like me.
They little know how I could love,
How I could plan and toil,
To swell those drudges' scanty gains,
Their mites of rye and oil.
They little know what dreams have been
My playmates, night and day;
Of equal kindness, helpful care,
A mother's perfect sway.
Now earth to earth in convent walls,
To earth in churchyard sod:
I was not good enough for man,
And so am given to God.
Bertrich in the Eifel, 1851.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem