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✦ 56 ✦ Mein Liebchen, Was Willst Du Noch Mehr? The clock hands scurry down the wall. And time, like roaches, scuttles past. But what’s the use of hurling plates? Why raise a fuss, why shatter glass? This country cottage is a place Where life might take on any role. Good fortune knows no special grace! No thunder tolled, why cross your soul? The lightning yet may strike to flame This dripping hut in which we cling, Or all the puppies may be claimed, Or rain in pellets pierce a wing. Yet still the woods are our front hall, The fir-tipped moon provides us heat, And still the flapping clouds will call, Like aprons drying in the breeze. And when the winds of grief sweep down Across the well, and—passing by— The storm applauds our keeping house, What more could you expect from life? The year burned down in kerosene, Like midges that have sought the lamp, And then arose, a gray-blue dawn, All tousled, sleepy-eyed and damp. ✦ 57 ✦ And through a window arch it peers, Grown old and grim with pity’s strain; It left a pillow wet with tears And buried there the sobs of pain. Oh, how can one who never joked Console these tattered rags and weeds? How calm the summer, sorrow choked, As at its end it goes to seed? The woods are draped in leaden shreds, The brooding burdock’s sad and gray— In tears—but you are lovely yet, All eagerness, like break of day! So why does that old fool still moon? Has he seen others free from pain? Or do the village aster blooms Go dim—like suns—in dust and rain? The title of this verse is taken from the refrain of a poem by Heinrich Heine (“Du hast Diamanten und Perlen”). ...

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