Oh, how fair, how fair art thou, Dearest! 
  Thou art as fair as the rose! 
  Not like the Rose of Shiras,
  That bride of the nightingale, sung by Hafis,
  Not like the Rose of Sharon,
  That mystic red rose, exalted by prophets—­
  Thou art like the “Rose, of the Bremen Town-Cellar,”
  Which is the Rose of Roses;
  The older it grows the sweeter it blossoms,
  And its breath divine it hath all entranced me,
  It hath inspired and kindled my soul;
  And had not the Town-Cellar Master gripped me
  With firm grip and steady,
  I should have stumbled!

  That excellent man!  We sat together
  And drank like brothers;
  We spoke of wonderful mystic things,
  We sighed and sank in each other’s arms,
  And me to the faith of love he converted;
  I drank to the health of my bitterest foes,
  And I forgave all bad poets sincerely,
  Even as I may one day be forgiven;

  I wept with devotion, and at length
  The doors of salvation were opened unto me,
  Where the sacred Vats, the twelve Apostles,
  Silently preach, yet oh, so plainly,
  Unto all nations.

  These be men forsooth! 
  Of humble exterior, in jackets of wood,
  Yet within they are fairer and more enlightened
  Than all the Temple’s proud Levites,
  Or the courtiers and followers of Herod,
  Though decked out in gold and in purple;
  Have I not constantly said: 
  Not with the herd of common low people,
  But in the best and politest of circles
  The King of Heaven was sure to dwell!

  Hallelujah!  How lovely the whisper
  Of Bethel’s palm-trees! 
  How fragrant the myrtle-trees of Hebron! 
  How sings the Jordan and reels with joy! 
  My immortal spirit likewise is reeling,
  And I reel in company, and, joyously reeling,
  Leads me upstairs and into the daylight
  That excellent Town-Cellar Master of Bremen.

  Thou excellent Town-Cellar Master of Bremen! 
  Dost see on the housetops the little angels
  Sitting aloft, all tipsy and singing? 
  The burning sun up yonder
  Is but a fiery and drunken nose—­
  The Universe Spirit’s red nose;
  And round the Universe Spirit’s red nose
  Reels the whole drunken world.

* * * * *

A NEW SPRING (1831)

1[39]

  Soft and gently through my soul
  Sweetest bells are ringing,
  Speed you forth, my little song,
  Of springtime blithely singing!

  Speed you onward to a house
  Where sweet flowers are fleeting! 
  If, perchance, a rose you see,
  Say, I send her greeting!

  2[40]

  Thy deep blue eyes enchant me,
  So lovingly they glow;
  My gazing soul grows dreamy,
  My words come strange and slow.

  Thy deep blue eyes enchant me
  Wherever I may go: 
  An ocean of azure fancies
  O’erwhelms me with its flow.