Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself, Speaking of anything else, but never of itself. XVI Allons! through struggles and wars ! The goal that was named cannot be countermanded. Have the past struggles succeeded? What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? nature? Now understand me well—It is provided in the essence of things, that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary. My call is the call of battle- I nourish active rebellion; He going with me must go well arm'd; He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions. XVII Allons! the road is before us! It is safe-I have tried it-my own feet have tried it well. Allons! be not detain'd! Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen'd! Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn'd! Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher ! Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law. Camerado! I give you my hand! I give you my love, more precious than money, Shall we stick by each other as long as we live? SOME PEREGRINO'S SONG FROM The Way of Perfect Love OMETHING calls and whispers, along the city street, Through shrill cries of children and soft stir of feet, And makes my blood to quicken and makes my flesh to pine. The mountains are calling; the winds wake the pine. Past the quivering poplars that tell of water near The long road is sleeping, the white road is clear. Yet scent and touch can summon, afar from brook and tree, The deep boom of surges, the grey waste of sea. Sweet to dream and linger, in windless orchard close, On bright brows of ladies to garland the rose; But all the time are glowing, beyond this little world, The still light of planets and the star-swarms whirled. Georgiana Goddard King THE MERRY BEGGARS COME NOME, come; away! the Spring, 66 Cuckoo," cries he; “jug, jug, jug,” From bush to bush, from tree to tree: Come away! why do we stay? Cuckoo," cries he; "jug, jug, jug,” sings she; From bush to bush, from tree to tree: Why in one place then tarry we? Alexander Brome WANDERSCHAFT VOM OM Grund bis zu den Gipfeln, Die Quellen von den Klüften, Und die im Thal verderben Und von den Bergen nieder Da wird die Welt so munter Und über Felsenwände Das wirrt und jauchzt ohn' Ende Nun geht das Wandern an! Joseph von Eichendorff DER MAI IST GEKOMMEN ER Mai ist gekommen, die Bäume schlagen Daus, Da bleibe, wer Lust hat, mit Sorgen zu Haus! Wie die Wolken wandern am himmlischen Zelt, So steht auch mir der Sinn in die weite, weite Welt. Herr Vater, Frau Mutter, dass Gott euch behüt'! Wer weiss, wo in der Ferne mein Glück mir noch blüht! Es giebt so manche Strasse, die nimmer ich marschiert, Es giebt so manchen Wein, den ich nimmer noch probiert. Frisch auf drum, frisch auf, im hellen Sonnenstrahl! Wohl über die Berge, wohl durch das tiefe Thal! Die Quellen erklingen, die Bäume rauschen all, Mein Herz ist wie'ne Lerche und stimmt ein mit Schall. Und abends im Städtlein, da kehr' ich durstig ein: "Herr Wirt, Herr Wirt, eine Kanne blanken Wein! Ergreife die Fiedel, du lust'ger Spielmann du, Von meinem Schatz das Liedel das sing' ich dazu." Und find' ich keine Herberg', so lieg ich zu Nacht Wohl unter blauem Himmel, die Sterne halten Wacht: |