THE ARM OF LOVE.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF GEORG SCHEURLIN.
A young wife sits by a cradle nest,
Her fair boy smiling on her breast;
In the quiet room draws on the night,
And she rocks and sings by the soft lamplight;
On mother bosom the rest is deep;
In the arm of love—so fall asleep.
In the cool vale, 'neath sunny sky,
We sit alone, my own and I;
A song of joy wells in my breast,
Ah, heart to heart, how sweet the rest!
The brooklets ripple, the breezes sweep;
In the arm of love—so fall asleep.
From the churchyard tolls the solemn bell,
For the pilgrim has finished his journey well;
Here lays he down the staff, long pressed;
In the bosom of earth, how calm the rest!
Above the casket the earth they heap;
In the arm of love—so fall asleep.
Miss Margaret N. Garrard.
It must be a poet who shall translate a poet and so naturally we find Miss Garrard as well as Mrs. Buckley, already in our group of "Poets".
The difficulty of reproducing well, in metrical forms, thoughts from the poetry of another language, is so great, that we give with pride the translation of Miss Garrard of one of Goethe's sweet wild-wood songs, in which he excelled.