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Through forests I'll follow, and where the sea

flows, Through ice, and through iron, through armies

of foes.

Annie of Tharaw, my light and my sun,
The threads of our two lives are woven in one

Whate'er I havebidden thee thou hast obey'd, Whatever forbidden thou hast not gainsaid.

How in the turmoil of life can love stand, Where there is not one heart, and one mouth,

and one hand ?

Some seek for dissension, and trouble, and

strife, Like a dog and a cat live such man and wife.

Annie of Tharaw, such is not our love;
Thou art my lambkin, my chick, and my dove.

Whate'er

my

desire is, in thine may be seen ; I am king of the household, and thou art its

queen.

It is this, O my Annie, my heart's sweetest

rest, That makes of us twain but one soul in one

breast.

This turns to heaven the hut where we dwell, While wrangling soon changes a home to a

hell

THE STATUE OVER THE CATHDRAL DOOR. 120

THE STATUE OVER THE CATHEDRAL

DOOR.

FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN.

FORMs of saints and kings are standing

The cathedral door above; Yet I saw but one among them

Who hath soothed my soul with love.

In his mantle — wound about him,

As their robes the sowers wind,Bore he swallows and their fledglings,

Flowers and weeds of every kind

And so stands he, calm and childlikc,

High in wind and tempest wild ; O, were I like him exalted,

I would be like him, a child

And my songs, green leaves and blossoms,

To the doors of heaven would bear, Calling, even in storm and tempering

Round me still these birds of air.

THE LEGEND OF THE CROSSBILL.

FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN.

On the cross the dying Saviour

Heavenward lifts his eyelids calni, Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling

In his pierced and bleeding palm.

And by all the world forsaken,

Sees he how with zealous care At the ruthless nail of iron

A little bird is striving there.

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