Heinrich Heine (1797–1856)

Translated by Matilda Dickson

I’VE kept a haughty heart thro’ grief and mirth,

And borne my head perchance a thought too high;

If even a king should look me in the eye

I would not bend it humbly to the earth:

Yet, dearest mother, such the gentle worth

Of thy benignant presence, angel-mild,

It ever hath my proudest moods beguiled,

And given to softer, humbler feelings birth.

Was it thy mind’s calm penetrative power,

Thy purer mind, that secretly came o’er me,

And unto Heaven’s clearer light upbore me;

Or did remembrance sting me in that hour,

With thought of words and deeds which pierced unkindly

That gentle heart, loving me still so blindly.