Self-deceit

My neighbour's curtain, well I see,
Is moving to and fro.
No doubt she's list'ning eagerly,
If I'm at home or no,

And if the jealous grudge I bore
And openly confess'd,
Is nourish'd by me as before,
Within my inmost breast.

Alas! no fancies such as these
E'er cross'd the dear child's thoughts.
I see 'tis but the ev'ning breeze
That with the curtain sports.
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Author of original: 
Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
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