Theodor Storm (1817–1888)

ALL was for my mother’s sake:

The other man she made me take!

What it had owned before

My heart should know no more,

But could not thus forsake.

Mother, I’m accusing you:

Good to me you did not do;

The world would have esteemed

What now a sin is deemed.

What shall I do!

Now fled is joy and pride,

But sorrow must abide.

Oh, would this were not so,

Could I a-begging go,

Over the brown heath wide!