Identifier: germanclassicsof18fran (find matches)
Title: The German classics of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; masterpieces of German literature
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Francke, Kuno, 1855-1930 Howard, William Guild, b. 1868 Singer, Isidore, 1859-1939
Subjects: German literature German literature English literature
Publisher: Albany, N. Y. : J. B. Lyon company
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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tabs me as I fall,Stabs hard — I have no strength at all;Before, beneath me, round about,A frightful struggle, rage and rout.And oer this tangle wild, in fearI see a shying war-horse rear.The hoof I see like lightning whir.The clotted scar from pricking spur.The girth, the spattered mud, the redOf nostrils swelling wide with dread.Between us now with clanging soundThe bomb-shell bursts its iron bound;A dragon rears, the earth is rent,Down falls the whole wide firmament.They wail and moan, and dust is spreadUpon the laurels and the dead. Mid flower-beds I chanced to standAnd gazed upon a gorgeous landThat far and wide before me layBeneath the peace-fans lulling sway.And in the apple-trees fair shadeMy host and I together stayedAnd barkened to the nightingale,And roses bloomed on hill and dale. PARTING AND RETURN* I All over, over — and my eyesAfar are straying in despair.All over — but the sea-gull flies.My plaintive escort, through the air. ♦Translator: Margarete Miinsterberg.
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DETLEV VOX LILIEXCRON LILIENCEON: POEMS 295 The gull returns: far, far awayI leave my fatherland behind,An outcast from my home I strayWhere I my grave had hoped to find. When yesterday, in parting pain,Enraged the linden bough I shook,And heard the partridge in the grain,A fever-spell my limbs oertook. My ship is pitching, tossed by waves.The mates are singing while they sail;My heart is tossed, it storms and raves,And homeless, I must feel the gale. II Mid waves there gleams the pallid strand,Afar through blurring tears is seenThe sea-coast of my fatherland;Exhausted, by the mast I lean. The lilacs bloom, the swallows stray,The starlings chatter fills the air.The organ-grinder grinds his lay.The winds light kiss is on my hair. Before the guard-house soldiers stand.And arm in arm laugh damsels young.While from the school there pours a bandThat frolic in my native tongue. My heart cries out in rapture wild,Rejoicing my old home to greet.And all I lived with as a childLike echoes on my

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