>post picture of romantic poet >hurr this guy amazing >ya

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143KB, 800x1014px

>post picture of romantic poet
>hurr this guy amazing
>ya he gud
>he write pretty
>ad nauseam

Now fuck it let's talk about some meaning:

>My heart, my heart is weary,
>Yet merrily beams the May

>And I lean against the linden.
>High up on the terrace gray.

>The town-moat far below me
>Buns silent and sad, and blue ;

>A boy in a boat floats o'er it,
>Still fishing and whistling too.

>And a beautiful varied picture,
>Spreads out beyond the flood,

>Fair houses, and gardens, and people,
>And cattle, and meadow, and wood.

>Young maidens are bleaching the linen,
>They laugh as they go and come ;

>And the mill-wheel is dripping with diamonds
>I list to its far away hum.

>And high on yon old gray castle
>A sentry-box peeps o'er ;

>While a young red-coated soldier
>Is pacing beside the door.

>He handles his shining musket,
>Which gleams in the sunlight red,

>He halts, he presents, and shoulders :
>I wish that he'd shoot me dead.

What did he fucking mean by this?