Still though the one I sing,
(One, yet of contradictions made) I dedicate to Nationality,
I leave in him revolt, (O latent right of insurrection! O quenchless, indispensable fire!)

Poet: Walt Whitman

Anonymous translation from the German

PAIN’S furnace heat within me quivers,
  God’s breath upon the flame doth blow,
And all my heart in anguish shivers,
  And trembles at the fiery glow:
And yet I whisper, As God will!
And in his hottest fire...

Poet: Julius Sturm

I Love to wander through the woodlands hoary
  In the soft light of an autumnal day,
When Summer gathers up her robes of glory,
  And like a dream of beauty glides away.

How through each loved, familiar path she lingers,
  Serenely smiling through the...