Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume III. Sorrow and Consolation. 1904. | | | | V. Death and Bereavement | | The Passage | | Ludwig Uhland (1787–1862) |
| | From the German by Sarah Taylor Austin |
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MANY a year is in its grave | |
| Since I crossed this restless wave: | |
| And the evening, fair as ever, | |
| Shines on ruin, rock, and river. | |
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| Then in this same boat beside, | 5 |
| Sat two comrades old and tried,— | |
| One with all a father’s truth, | |
| One with all the fire of youth. | |
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| One on earth in silence wrought, | |
| And his grave in silence sought; | 10 |
| But the younger, brighter form | |
| Passed in battle and in storm. | |
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| So, whene’er I turn mine eye | |
| Back upon the days gone by, | |
| Saddening thoughts of friends come o’er me, | 15 |
| Friends that closed their course before me. | |
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| But what binds us, friend to friend, | |
| But that soul with soul can blend? | |
| Soul-like were those hours of yore; | |
| Let us walk in soul once more. | 20 |
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| Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee, | |
| Take, I give it willingly; | |
| For, invisible to thee, | |
| Spirits twain have crossed with me. | | | |
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