A SONG.
Reading edition
FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER.
———
BY GIFTIE.
———
Oft when the evening sun is low,
Along the billowing sea
Is heard the echoing sound of bells,
Ringing harmoniously.
Ringing the call to vesper prayer,
With muffled tone and low,
From the towers of that old “wonder-town,”
Submerged so long ago.
And as the billows dance and play
Beneath the lingering light,
The sailor sees far in the sea
A strange and fearful sight;
For temple, tower and palace gleam
I’ the sunset’s golden sheen;
And ghostly people walk the streets
Like a crowd of living men.
Oh, human heart! art thou not like
That city lost of old
With all thy glittering towers of pride,
And buried joys untold.
The tides of life rush over thee,
But cannot sweep away
The temples of thine early hopes—
Thine halls of imagery.
And from thy depths there comes a tone—
A music sad and low;
The requiem of thy buried loves,
That perished long ago.
And gloriously thy visions gleam
I’ the light of memory;
Oh, human heart! art thou not like
That city of the sea.