, as it maunders on till dawn, Is powdered and pelted and smiled upon.
Herr Weiser, with his
wholesome face, And the gentle
blue of his eyes, and grace Of unassuming honesty,
Be there to welcome you and me! And what though the toil of the farm be
stopped And the tireless plans of the place be dropped, While
the prayerful master's knees are set In beds of pansy and mignonette
lily and aster and columbine, Offered in love, as yours and mine--?
What, but a blessing of kindly thought,
Sweet as the breath of forget-me-not--! What, but a spirit of lustrous
love White as the aster he bends
above--! What, but
an odorous memory Of the dear old man, made known to me
In days demanding a help like his--, As sweet as the life of the lily
As sweet as the soul of a babe, bloom-wise Born of a lily in paradise.
_The Beautiful City_ The Beautiful City! Forever Its rapturous
praises resound; We fain would behold it-- but never A glimpse
of its dory is found: We
slacken our lips at the tender White breasts of our mothers to hear Of
its marvellous beauty and splendor--; We see-- but the gleam of a tear!
Yet never the story may tire us-- First graven in symbols of stone--
Rewritten on scrolls of
papyrus And parchment, and scattered and blown By the winds of the
tongues of all nations, Like
a litter of leaves wildly whirled Down the rack of a hundred
translations, From the earliest lisp
of the world. We compass the earth and the ocean, From the Orient's
uttermost light, To where the last ripple in motion Lips hem of the
skirt of the night--, But the Beautiful City evades us-- No spire of it
glints in the sun-- No g