Classic Poem

In Hildesheim, old Hildesheim,
The towers have made a truce with time,
And ancient gables somehow seem
Deep in a mediaeval dream
From which no sound, or shrill or sweet,
May rouse them in the stirring street;
The fountain in the market-square
Still pours its treble music there,
As when the Templars trod those ways
In singing and in fighting days;
And all is like arsantique rhyme
In Hildesheim, quaint Hildesheim!