Classic Poem

I dream myself back in childhood,
And I shake my old gray head;
For a memory once more haunts me
I had long ago thought dead.

Rising from out yon shadow
Is a shining castle shown;
I know the tower and the ramparts,
The gate, and the bridge of stone.

I see upon the escutcheon
The familiar lion traced;
I salute my old acquaintance,
And into the court-yard haste.

There lies the sphinx at the fountain;
There stands the fig-tree green;
And there, too, behind those windows,
I dreamed my earliest dream.

I walk through the castle chapel,
And seek the ancestral tomb;
'Tis there, where the ancient weapons
On the pillar hang in gloom.

But, though from the rich stained windows
The light on it clearly lies,
I cannot read the inscription,
Because of my tear-dimmed eyes.

In memory, home of my fathers,
Thus faithful and firm art thou;
Although from the earth thou hast vanished,
And over thee passes the plough.

Be fruitful, dear land! thus fondly
I bless thee, sad though I be;
And will bless him doubly who henceforth
Shall drive the plough over thee.

But now I will quickly arouse me,
And, with my harp in my hand,
Go roaming the wide world over,
And singing from land to land.