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Home  »  A Harvest of German Verse  »  Max von Schenkendorf (1783–1817)

Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. A Harvest of German Verse. 1916.

By Freedom

Max von Schenkendorf (1783–1817)

FREEDOM that I love,

Shining in my heart,

Come now from above,

Angel that thou art!

To the world oppressed

Wilt thou ne’er appear?

Shall but stars be blessed

With thy grace and cheer?

In the forest gay

When the trees are green,

’Neath the blooming spray,

Freedom, thou art seen.

Oh, what dear delight!

Music fills the air,

And thy secret might

Thrills us everywhere—

When the rustling boughs

Friendly greetings send,

When we lovers’ vows,

Looks and kisses spend.

But the heart aspires

Upward evermore,

And our high desires

Toward heaven soar.

From his simple kind

Comes my rustic child,

Shows his heart and mind

To the world beguiled.

For him gardens bloom,

For him fields have grown,

Even in the gloom

Of a world of stone.

Where within a breast

Glows a God-sent flame—

Love with loyal zest

For the ancient name,

Where all men unite

Valiantly to face

Foes of honour’s right—

There dwells freedom’s race.

Ramparts, brazen doors

Still may bar the light,

Yet the spirit soars

Into regions bright.

For the fathers’ grave,

For the church to fall

And for dear ones—brave,

True at freedom’s call—

That indeed is light,

Glowing rosy-red:

Heroes’ cheeks grow bright

And more fair when dead.

Toward us, oh, guide

Heaven’s grace, we pray;

In our hearts reside

—German hearts—to stay!

Freedom sweet and fair,

Trusting, void of fear,

German nature e’er

Was to thee most dear.