Classic Poem

At the window stood the mother
In bed the sick son lay;
“Will you not get up, Wilhelm,
To see them pass this way?”

“I am so sick, O mother,
I cannot hear or see;
I think of my own dead Gretchen
And my heart is sad in me.”

“Get up, we will to Kevlaar,
Take book and rosary;
The Mother of God will heal thee
Thy heart so sad in thee.”

They flutter the holy banners,
They sing the holy song;
'Tis at Köln upon the Rhine-bank
The pilgrims pass along.

The mother follows the people,
She leads him tenderly;
Both of them join in the chorus:
“Praise, Mary, be to thee!”