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 CATHEDRAL DOOR. 125 THE STATUE OVER THE CATHEDRAL DOOR. FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN. FORMS of saints and kings are standing 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 childlike, 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 tempest, Round me still these birds of air. THE LEGEND OF THE CROSSBILL. FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN. On the cross the dying Saviour And by all the world forsaken, A little bird is striving there. Stained with blood and never tiring, From the cross 't would free the Saviour, And the Saviour speaks in mildness ;- Bear, as token of this moment, And that bird is called the crossbill; In the groves of pine it singeth Songs, like legends, strange to hear. |