A Funeral Fantasie (Friedrich von Schiller Poems)
. Pale, at its ghastly noon, Pauses above the death-still wood—the moon; The night-sprite, sighing, ...
. Pale, at its ghastly noon, Pauses above the death-still wood—the moon; The night-sprite, sighing, ...
Eight years have fled since, in the wilderness,I drew the rein to rest my comrade there-My supple, clean-limbed pony of ...
April had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the ...
Dear child! how radiant on thy mother's knee, With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles, Thou gazest at the painted tiles, ...
Hark! ah, the nightingale- The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark!-what pain! O wanderer ...
Pale, at its ghastly noon, Pauses above the death-still wood--the moon; The night-sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs; The ...
When forty winters shall beseige thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery, so ...
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery, so ...
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