A poor scholar loved me

To my great joy, I am able to bring from my 12th, or at furthest my 14th month, one pale, little remembrance, like the earliest and frailest of snowdrops, from the fresh soil of childhood.

I recollect, namely, that a poor scholar loved me much, and that I returned his love, and that he carried me about in his arms, and later, took me more agreeably by the hand to the large, dark apartment of the older children, where he gave me milk to drink.

This form, vanishing in distance, and his love, hover again over later years, but alas! I no longer remember his name. . . . This little morning star of earliest recollection stands yet tolerably clear in its low horizon, but growing paler as the daylight of life rises higher.

[This was written in 1849 on page 19 of the author's autobiography.]

Posted By: Jean Paul Richter
Poet, Germany