Classic Poem

Mir träumt: ich bin dir liebe Gott

I dreamt I was the dear Lord God
 And sat in Heaven gaily,
The angels thronged about my feet
 And praised my verses daily.

And cakes I ate and sweetmeats too,
 My costly taste displaying.
I washed them down with rare old wines,
 Without a thought of paying.

But the inaction bored me so,
 I longed once more to revel;
I thought, were I not God Himself,
 I'd rather be the devil.

“Ho, long-legged Gabriel,” I called,
 “Put on thy boots, I prithee;
Seek out my good old friend Eugene
 And fetch him quickly with thee.

“Seek him not at the college halls,
 Seek him where wine inspires;
Seek him not at St. Hedwig's church—
 Seek him at Ma'm'selle Meyer's.”

The angel spread his plumes and flew
 Swift as a wingéd stallion,
And found and carried up to me
 My friend, the old rapscallion.

“Yes, lad, I am the Lord Himself,
 I rule each great and dumb thing;
I always told you some fine day
 I would amount to something.

“And I work wonders every hour,
 Things that would quite enthuse you;
To-day, for instance, I will change
 All Berlin, to amuse you.

“The cobble-stones in every street
 Shall split; and in their moister,
New-opened centers shall be found,
 Juicy and fresh—an oyster!

“A rain of gentle lemon-juice
 Shall fall on them, bestowing
A grace; and lo, through all the streets
 Rhine wine shall keep on flowing.

“See how the folk of Berlin run;
 Their joy's too great to utter;
The heads of all the City Courts
 Are drinking from the gutter.

“And look how glad the poets are,
 How hungrily they rally!
The ensigns and lieutenants too
 Lap up each street and alley.

“The soldiers tho' are cleverest,
 Their shrewdness they display there.
They know that miracles like this
 Don't happen every day there.”