Now will the foe of ev’ry flower,
Send forth the tempest of his rage;
List! how his winds the battle rage,
And blow the fields and woodlands o’er!
Him nought withstands: his giant power
Tears from the plat the rose away,
And withers up each flow’ret gay;
So sharp his rage is to devour.
For this, the meads are sorrowing,
The birds are dumb, no longer song
Bursts the mute groves and hills among,
Chill’d by cold snows,– Yet still my love I sing…
(Herr Goesli von Ehenheim)
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Based on Topics: War & Peace Poems, Flowers Poems, Birds Poems, Anger PoemsBased on Keywords: withstands, plat