Verse > Anthologies > Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. > A Harvest of German Verse
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Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans.  A Harvest of German Verse.  1916.
 
Oh, Germany!
By Prince Emil von Schönaich-Carolath (1852–1908)
 
A GERMAN town with gables
Upon a moonlight night—
I know not why I always
Am touched so by the sight.
 
Into the lamplight yonder        5
A youth is staring long;
He’s sighing, sobbing, feeling
His first and dearest song.
 
There sits a youthful mother
And rocks to rest her child;        10
She’s praying while she rocks him
To sleep with singing mild.
 
On the moonlit gables linger
An old man’s pensive eyes:
He holds in his hands a Bible        15
Where a faded nosegay lies.
 
The twinkling stars are gleaming,
There’s rustling in the trees;
The houses all seem dreaming
In deep and drowsy ease.        20
 
The fountain is splashing, flowing,
As always on Simon Square,
The watchman low is blowing
Upon the horn his air.
 
Oh Germany! I’ve had pleasure        25
In many a foreign land—
But to thee greatest treasure
Was given by God’s own hand.
 
Thou living, longing foundest
Thy dreams in deepest peace.        30
The while thou iron poundest,
Thy songs shall never cease.
 
Let no one rob thy worship—
Thy worship old and true
Of women, faith and freedom,        35
And keep it ever new!
 
Draw from the fount of story
Thy piety of yore,
And strength to fight with glory—
To-day and evermore.        40
 
 
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