The splendor of the Empire
    He took with him away,
  And back to earth will bring it
    When dawns the promised day.

  The chair is ivory purest
    Whereof he makes his bed;
  The table is of marble
    Whereon he props his head.

  His beard, not flax, but burning
    With fierce and fiery glow,
  Right through the marble table
    Beneath his chair does grow.

  He nods in dreams and winketh
    With dull, half-open eyes,
  And once a page he beckons beckons—­
    A page that standeth by.

[Illustration:  FRIEDRICH RUeCKERT]

  He bids the boy in slumber
    “O dwarf, go up this hour,
  And see if still the ravens
    Are flying round the tower;

  And if the ancient ravens
    Still wheel above us here,
  Then must I sleep enchanted
    For many a hundred year.”

* * * * *

  FROM MY CHILDHOOD DAYS[50] (1817, 1818)

  From my childhood days, from my childhood days,
    Rings an old song’s plaintive tone—­
  Oh, how long the ways, oh, how long the ways
    I since have gone!

  What the swallow sang, what the swallow sang,
    In spring or in autumn warm—­
  Do its echoes hang, do its echoes hang
    About the farm?

  “When I went away, when I went away,
    Full coffers and chests were there;
  When I came today, when I came today,
    All, all was bare!”

  Childish lips so wise, childish lips so wise,
    With a lore as rich as gold,
  Knowing all birds’ cries, knowing all birds’ cries,
    Like the sage of old!

  Ah, the dear old place—­ah, the dear old place * * *
    May its sweet consoling gleam
  Shine upon my face, shine upon my face,
    Once in a dream!

  When I went away, when I went away,
    Full of joy the world lay there;
  When I came today, when I came today,
    All, all was bare.

  Still the swallows come, still the swallows come,
    And the empty chest is filled—­
  But this longing dumb, but this longing dumb
    Shall ne’er be stilled.

  Nay, no swallow brings, nay, no swallow brings
    Thee again where thou wast before—­
  Though the swallow sings, though the swallow sings,
    Still as of yore.

  “When I went away, when I went away,
    Full coffers and chests were there;
  When I came today, when I came today,
    All, all was bare!”

* * * * *

  THE SPRING OF LOVE[51] (1821)

  Dearest, thy discourses steal
    From my bosom’s deep, my heart
  How can I from thee conceal
    My delight, my sorrow’s smart?

  Dearest, when I hear thy lyre
    From its chains my soul is free. 
  To the holy angel quire
    From the earth, O let us flee!