I
in the darkness deep
Of the donjon-keep,
Where the spiders spin their strands;
In the home of bats
And of old gray rats,
Are my lord the turnkey’s lands.
O, his task is light,
But from morn till night
On his rounds he needs must go.
It is tramp, tramp, tramp,...
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let hammer on anvil ring,
And the forge fire brightly shine;
Let wars rage still,
While I work with a will
At this peaceful trade of mine.
The sword is a weapon to conquer fields;
I honor the man who shakes it:
But naught is the lad who the broad-sword wields
Compared to the lad who makes it.... -
Who will watch thee, little mound,
When a few more years are done,
And I go with them to rest
In the silence that is best?
Grave of my belovëd one,
When that I mine own have found,
Who will watch thee, little mound?Who will love thee, little grave?
Thou must be as others are.
Hearts low in the dust lie...