Classic Poem

God grants the good in dreams their prayer;
Perhaps 'twas so with thee!
Thou hast conceived half unaware,
O Virgin Germany!

In course of time thou shalt bring forth
A boy, a goodly son:
An archer bold, whose fame and worth
Shall match what Cupid won.

He'll pierce the eagle, though his flight
Be ne'er so high in heaven;
The double-headed eagle's might
Shall by his bolt be riven.

But never, like the God of Love,
That pagan blind, I wot.
Will he his hose and shirt remove,
And turn a sans-culotte.

Here climate, morals and police,
On old and young impress
A thing they recked not of in Greece—
The tyranny of dress.