Die Nebel fallen wieder ein
und lassen mich mit mir allein.
Mein großer Schmerz wird bleiern schwer.
Und drückt nur - und erlöst nicht mehr.
Das er mich hat vergessen gemacht
in lauterer Glut, die er entfacht, -
mein Ich ist wieder aufgewacht,
und tut wie eine Wunde weh -
und wie ich...
-
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(In Memoriam, May 30)
I.
TOLL the slow bell,
Toll the low bell,
Toll, toll,
Make dole
For them that wrought so well.
Come, come,
With muffled drum
And wailing lorn
Of dolorous horn;
The solemn measure slow
Toll and beat and blow;
Put out all glories that adorn
The sweet, unheeding morn... -
From “The Giaour”
CLIME of the unforgotten brave!
Whose land, from plain to mountain-cave,
Was Freedom’s home or Glory’s grave!
Shrine of the mighty! can it be
That this is all remains of thee?
Approach, thou craven, crouching slave;
Say, is not this Thermopylæ?
These waters blue that round you lave,
O servile offspring... -
The Angel of the nation’s peace
Has wreathed with flowers the battle-drum;
We see the fruiting fields increase
Where sound of war no more shall come.The swallow skims the Tennessee,
Soft winds play o’er the Rapidan;
There only echo notes of glee,
Where gleamed a mighty army’s van!Fair Chattanooga’s wooded slope...
-
"Thought I, the fallen flowers
Are returning to their branch;
But lo! they were butterflies."