Verse > Anthologies > Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans. > A Harvest of German Verse
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Margarete Münsterberg, ed., trans.  A Harvest of German Verse.  1916.
 
The Dead Child
By Konrad Ferdinand Meyer (1825–1898)
 
THE CHILD had of the garden made a friend,
Till both in autumn withered to an end.
The sun was fled and both had gone to sleep,
Enfolded in a cover white and deep.
 
The garden now has wakened to the light,        5
But still the child is slumb’ring in her night.
“Where are you?” So ’tis buzzing here and there.
For her the garden clamours everywhere.
 
The morning-glory, climbing up with grace,
Peeps through the window: “Leave your hiding-place!        10
Come out, or it will be your own distress!
Come, let me see your fine new summer-dress!”
 
 
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