| |
| POTSDAM, thou cradle of a line of kings, | |
| Quiet in thy greatness, a historic crown | |
| Rests well upon thee and on Sansouci, | |
| The home of him whom sternly gained Renown | |
| Calls “Great” forever. Let us backward turn | 5 |
| The page of history in our mental eye | |
| From the imperial glory of to-day, | |
| And rest upon a bygone century. | |
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| Now see we, walking in the royal park | |
| Of his loved Sansouci, a bended form, | 10 |
| And though the fire of youth may yet flash forth | |
| Defiance from his eye ’gainst every storm, | |
| Yet is he old. His work is nearly done. | |
| A youthful prince 1 attentive by his side, | |
| His favorite, destined to be also great, | 15 |
| He is in all the aged monarch’s pride. | |
| |
| Thus walking side by side, “Old Fritz” has plied | |
| The prince with questions ’bout his daily task | |
| Of lessons. Quiet pride does rest upon | |
| The old king’s face. He may no question ask | 20 |
| But what is answered promptly, truthfully, | |
| With grace and ken beyond the prince’s years; | |
| And the king knows that Prussia in such hands, | |
| Though all around be dark, need have no fears. | |
| |
| They stand, to part, beside the obelisk | 25 |
| That guards the entrance. “Look!” the monarch says; | |
| “Here is a lesson. Sermons rest in stones: | |
| This obelisk does speak from point to base. | |
| Its airy form may reach into the blue, | |
| But from below comes all its strength and power. | 30 |
| Thus with your people. Their love be your strength | |
| In future. Farewell! Don’t forget this hour!” | |
| |
| And he remembered! When the wings of Time | |
| Pressed Prussia’s crown upon the prince’s head, | |
| King Frederic William, third one of his name, | 35 |
| Fellow he proved of the illustrious dead | |
| In wisdom and in justice. Though for years | |
| His ashes mingle with ancestral dust, | |
| The grateful hearts of his loved people keep | |
| His memory green. Still is he named: “The Just!” | 40 |
