H EINRICH H EINE and C LINTON S COLLARD Construct a Rondeau.

Immortal eyes, why do they never die?
They come between me and the cheerful sky
And take the place of every sphinx-like star.
They haunt me always, always; and they mar
The comfort of my sleek tranquility.

In dreams you lean your cheek on mine and sigh;
And all the old, caressing words float by.
They haunt me always, always; yet they are
Immortal lies.

Oh love of mine, half-queen, half-butterfly,
You tore my soul to hear its dying cry,
And soiled my purpose with a deathless scar.
Go then, my broken songs, go near and far
And woman's love and her inconstancy Immortalize.