Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume VIII. National Spirit. 1904. | | | | III. War | | The Trooper’s Death | | Georg Herwegh (1817–1875) |
| | From the German by Rossiter W. Raymond |
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THE WEARY night is o’er at last! | |
| We ride so still, we ride so fast! | |
| We ride where Death is lying. | |
| The morning wind doth coldly pass, | |
| Landlord! we ’ll take another glass, | 5 |
| Ere dying. | |
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| Thou, springing grass, that art so green, | |
| Shall soon be rosy red, I ween, | |
| My blood the hue supplying! | |
| I drink the first glass, sword in hand, | 10 |
| To him who for the Fatherland | |
| Lies dying! | |
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| Now quickly comes the second draught, | |
| And that shall be to freedom quaffed | |
| While freedom’s foes are flying! | 15 |
| The rest, O land, our hope and faith! | |
| We ’d drink to thee with latest breath, | |
| Though dying! | |
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| My darling!—ah, the glass is out! | |
| The bullets ring, the riders shout— | 20 |
| No time for wine or sighing! | |
| There! bring my love the shattered glass— | |
| Charge! On the foe! no joys surpass | |
| Such dying! | | | |
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