Classic Poem

The Schwarzwald, with its grim and grand
Old gloomy firs, who knows not?
No pilgrim comes to Swabia's land,
And from it one there goes not,
Who stands not still and stares to see
That wood's wild pomp and majesty.

Wild are its heights, so grim and hoar;
Darkly they close behind us;
Before us, glad and strong they soar,
And of our sires remind us,
The rough old Germans, brave and strong;—
Why wake these woods no German song?

Old Schwarzwald,—were I strong as he,
With all his years around him,
His anthem were not hard for me;
But I have always found him,—
This will I say,—though wild to view,
My best of neighbours, friend most true.

I 've seen, on many a grove-crowned hill,
Dance round the murmuring fountain
Whole troops of Nymphs; yet love I still
Far best the wooded mountain;
For always, when I nearer drew,
Not the last goddess was in view.

So sang I oft on vine-hills, where
Grape gleamed with goblet, saying,
My country's daughters must be fair,
For songs with kisses paying;
But soon as Autumn took his flight
Were kiss and song forgotten quite.

But Schwarzwald is my love for aye.
Down from his heights so gayly,
With neat white hat, a maid one day
Came tripping to the valley,
Red-cheeked, without deceit or art,—
Naught hid but love within her heart.

A long, long look she well was worth;
I said,—“Sweet maid, wilt tarry
In this our vale, beside my hearth?
With mine thy fortunes marry?”
'T was strange to us,—but soft and still
The woodland maiden said,—“I will!”

In a short time she was my bride;
Then wife; and, when kind Heaven
Had helped a little nest provide,
A cherub, too, was given,—
Sat on her lap and sweetly smiled,
And grew a prattling, toddling child.

Since that, these twain have been to me
My sole sufficient treasure;
Each gift, however small it be,
Brings me a priceless pleasure,—
The ray that wakes me from my bed,—
The sparrow twittering on my shed.

No mountain can such wealth enfold
For me,—on earth no mountain,
Though all its rocks were solid gold
And wine its every fountain,—
As, all undreamed of and unsought,
From his rough heights old Schwarzwald brought.