The Sorrows of Young Werther - November Interlude III
More poetry as we continue to await further correspondence from Werther
THE HEATHROSE
Once a boy a Rosebud spied,
Heathrose fair and tender,
All array'd in youthful pride,—
Quickly to the spot he hied,
Ravished by her splendour.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
Said the boy, "I'll now pick thee,
Heathrose fair and tender!"
Said the rosebud, "I'll prick thee,
So that thou'lt remember me,
Ne'er will I surrender!"
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
Now the cruel boy must pick
Heathrose fair and tender;
Rosebud did her best to prick,—
Vain 'twas 'gainst her fate to kick—
She must needs surrender.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1770
From The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Collected and translated by Edgar A. Bowring, 1853.
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