Classic Poem

CAPUTIX

Like the tongue of flaming scarlet
That some swarthy Moorish monarch
Of our Freiligrath, in anger,
From his mocking mouth might point us,

From the dark and lowering heaven
Steps the moon; while night re-echoes
With the sullen, sleepless thunder
Of the everlasting torrents.

On the rock he always chooses,
Perched aloft stands Atta Troll,
Howling lonely to the night-wind,
And the depths of the abysses.

" Yes, a bear am I; I own it:
Just a bear, a common bear —
Growler, Isegrimm, and Bruin —
Heaven knows the names ye call me.

" Yes, a bear am I; I own it:
Just the beast uncouth and clumsy,
The ungainly dromedary
Of your cruel scorn and laughter.

" Yes, I serve your wit for target:
Am the monster with whose terrors
Of a night ye scare your children,
Scare your naughty human children.

" I am he whose form distorted
In your nursery lore has figured.
Loud and boldly I proclaim it
To the despicable world.

" Hear and mark: I am a bear,
Of my origin ashamed not; —
Am as proud as if descended
From a Moses Mendelssohn! "