"The goodliest land on all this earth,
It is the Saxon land
There have I as many maidens
As fingers on this hand!"
"Hold your tongues! both Swabian
and Saxon!"
A bold Bohemian cries;
"If there's a heaven upon this earth,
In Bohemia it lies.
"There the tailor blows the flute,
And the cobbler blows the horn,
And the miner blows the bugle,
Over mountain gorge and bourn."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And then the landlord's daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,
And said, "Ye may no more contend,—
There lies the happiest land!"
THE WAVE
BY CHRISTOPH AUGUST TIEDGE
"Whither, thou turbid wave?
Whither, with so much haste,
As if a thief wert thou?"
"I am the Wave of Life,
Stained with my margin's dust;
From the struggle and the strife
Of the narrow stream I fly
To the Sea's immensity,
To wash from me the slime
Of the muddy banks of Time."
THE DEAD
BY ERNST STOCKMANN