| Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888. | | | | The Death-Angel | | By Ludwig Uhland (1787–1862) |
| | Translated by Matilda Dickson
HOW is it with the dying, who can say? | |
| Yet wondrously it seized me yesternight, | |
| My limbs already sank in death’s cold might, | |
| Within my breast the last pulse ebbed away: | |
| Upon my spirit fell a strange dismay; | 5 |
| The mind, that ever felt securely bright, | |
| Now flickering low, now fanned again to light, | |
| Its feeble flame to every wind a prey! | |
| Say, was it but an evil dream to prove me? | |
| The lark sings loud, the rosy morn is glowing, | 10 |
| And new desire to stirring life doth move me;— | |
| Or passed indeed the pale Death-angel here? | |
| These flowers that yesternight were freshly blowing | |
| Now from their stalks hang withered, dead, and sere. | | | | |
|
|
