“The Wrath of Werther’s Companion” or “June 16th”

Upon a wretched, dreary night,
We lit the candles cold and bright,
And watched the wind tear the trees,
And force them down on bended knees.

We closed the curtains, shut the blinds,
And pushed the storm far from our minds,
But I did not the terror heed,
Or warmth of hearth did I need.

Quickly did I climb the stairs,
Forgetting party’s timid cares,
And found the tower far above,
The party of poor Werther’s love.

Here the shutters stood still wide,
And did not the lightning hide.
Its fury I could never fear,
When in my heart it stood so near.

There in flashing, angry dark,
Died the petty, jealous spark,
Which hated her who stole his heart,
Who struck at me with cupid’s dart.

Fool was I to fall in love,
With a man like wounded dove,
Who cries and trembles but doesn’t feel,
What it is to fight for real.

So I watch the storm here ravage,
With a wrath something savage,
And I know all the while,
That he will die while she doth smile.

I will live again in peace,
And another’s heart she’ll lease,
But he will fail to carry on,
Will fall like hunted, broken fawn.

So I smile at the storm,
Which takes a new, vile form,
And know that though I was not blessed,
His own heart he’ll put to rest.