Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ROMANCERO: BOOK 1. HISTORIES: CHARLES I, by HEINRICH HEINE Poet's Biography First Line: In the charcoal-burner's hut in the wood Last Line: "my dear little headsman, sleep proudly!" Subject(s): Charles I, King Of England (1600-1649); Courts & Courtiers; Death; God; Singing & Singers; Sleep; Royal Court Life; Royalty; Kings; Queens; Dead, The; Songs | ||||||||
IN the charcoal-burner's hut in the wood Sits the king, an object of pity; The charcoal-burner's child's cradle he rocks, And sings this monotonous ditty: "Eiapopeia, why rustles the straw? "The sheep in the stalls bleat loudly; "Thou bearest the sign on thy forehead, and smil'st "In thy sleep so wildly and proudly. "Eiapopeia, thou bear'st on thy brow "The sign, -- and dead is the kitten; "When grown to manhood, thou'lt flourish the axe, "And the oak in the wood will be smitten. "The charcoal-burner's religion is dead, "And now no longer receive they, -- "Eiapopeia, -- the faith in a God, "Still less in the king believe they. "The kitten is dead, and the mice rejoice "And we from their presence are driven -- "Eiapopeia, -- I, monarch on earth, "And God, the monarch in heaven. "My heart grows sicker day by day, "My brow grows sterner and sterner; "Eiapopeia, -- my headsman art thou, "Thou child of the charcoal-burner! "My song of death is thy cradle-song -- "Eiapopeia, -- thou'lt fumble "My grey locks about, and cut them off, -- "Thine axe on my neck will tumble. "Eiapopeia, -- why rustles the straw? "Thou hast gained a kingdom splendid; "Thou strikest off from my body my head, -- "The life of the kitten is ended. "Eiapopeia, -- why rustles the straw? "The sheep in the stalls bleat loudly; 'The kitten is dead, and the mice rejoice, -- "My dear little headsman, sleep proudly!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE APOLLO TRIO by CONRAD AIKEN BAD GIRL SINGING by MARK JARMAN CHAMBER MUSIC: 4 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 5 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 28 by JAMES JOYCE THE SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE IS LIKE THE SCENT OF SYRINGA by MINA LOY |
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