Knight-errant of the Never-ending Quest,
And Minstrel of the Unfulfilled Desire;
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Not to the swift, the race:
Not to the strong, the fight:
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To the music of Beethoven's ninth symphony
Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,
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Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed,
Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the glory of the field,
24 lines, 1 comment
The mountains that enfold the vale
With walls of granite, steep and high,
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Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun,
And why is the garden so gay?
16 lines, 1 comment
I
Once, only once, I saw it clear, --
73 lines, 1 comment
To Charles A. Young, Astronomer
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I envy every flower that blows
Along the meadow where she goes,
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I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair
And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells
14 lines, 1 comment
Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America,
Dearer than if they were haunted by ghosts of royal splendour;
36 lines
If all the skies were sunshine,
Our faces would be fain
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A tale that the poet Rückert told
To German children, in days of old;
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Let me but live my life from year to year,
With forward face and unreluctant soul;
14 lines, 2 comments
They who tread the path of labor follow where My feet have trod;
They who work without complaining, do the holy will of God;
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Joyful, joyful we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love,
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, hail Thee as the sun above.
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"Christ of the Andes," Christ of Everywhere,
Great lover of the hills, the open air,
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'Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down
Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,
28 lines, 1 comment
Four things a man must learn to do
If he would make his record true:
6 lines, 1 comment
I
When tulips bloom in Union Aquare,
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There are songs for the morning and songs for the night,
For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon;
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This is the soldier brave enough to tell
The glory-dazzled world that `war is hell':
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I - STARLIGHT
With two bright eyes, my star, my love,
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Jesus, Thou divine Companion,
By Thy lowly human birth
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Home, for my heart still calls me;
Home, through the danger zone;
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FEBRUARY, 1917
I never thought again to hear
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The glory of ships is an old, old song,
since the days when the sea-rovers ran
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They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold
In glittering flood has poured into thy chest;
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IN HOLLAND
The laggard winter ebbed so slow
31 lines, 1 comment
When Stiivoren town was in its prime
And queened the Zuyder Zee,
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