Classic Poem

Every comrade of mine, arm in arm with his fair,
Through the alley of limes is walking;
While I—God have mercy, and make me His care—
All alone through the street am stalking.

How my heart is opprest, and what tears dim my eye,
If his tale should another be telling
To his love! for also a love have I;
But away and far off is her dwelling.

For years now this trouble I've had to endure,
But I'll suffer no longer such sorrow:
With knapsack and staff, in the hope of a cure,
I'll go forth on the wide world to-morrow.

Many hundreds of miles must the journey be,
Till to the great city I come;
Where it shines, on the great river's mouth, I shall see
The three towers that rise over her home.

There I shall be free from the sorrows of love,
There await me the happiest times;
And there will I walk, arm in arm with my dove,
Through the sweet-scented alley of limes.