Heinrich Heine
The old dream comes again to me:
With May-night stars above,
We two sat under the linden-tree
And swore eternal love.
Again and again we plighted troth,
We chattered, and laughed, and kissed;
To make me well remember my oath
You gave me a bite on the wrist.
O, darling, with the eyes serene,
And with the teeth so white!
The vows were proper to the scene,
Superfluous was the bite.