Classic Poem

In Canossa's castle courtyard
Stands the German Kaiser Henry,
In his shirt of penance, barefoot,
And the night is wet and chilly.

Watching figures peer above him
Through the casement, and the moonlight
Gleams on Gregory bald-pated,
Gilds the bosom of Mathilda.

And the pale-lipped Henry murmurs,
Murmurs pious paternosters,
But he grinds his teeth in secret,
In his kingly heart he whispers,

" Far in Germany, my country,
Soar the high and mighty mountains;
In their silent mines the iron
For my battle-axe is growing.

" Far in Germany, my country,
Tower the oaks in many a forest;
In the highest oak the handle
For my battle-axe is growing.

" Thou, my dear, my faithful country,
Thou wilt bring the man to birth too
Who will crush this snake that tortures:
With the battle-axe will smite him. "