Identifier: germanclassicsof18fran (find matches)
Title: The German classics of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; masterpieces of German literature
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Francke, Kuno, 1855-1930 Howard, William Guild, b. 1868 Singer, Isidore, 1859-1939
Subjects: German literature German literature English literature
Publisher: Albany, N. Y. : J. B. Lyon company
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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cannot keep Our courage, stifled all our hopes must cease — No morning dawns! Ah, there is no release! Wherefore this torment? Faint they reeled and stayed Worn out, beneath the everlasting shade.Where art Thou, God ? I cried, but no sound made.—— Now, now: a point! A sudden glimmer bright!A crevice burst — a flood of light was gleaming.The earth and sky with golden glow were streaming! —Salvation! Hail! A rushing for the light!I hurled the woman up unto the strand And staggered, with my last force crying: Land! Here, mate! My glass is empty. Fill it, lad! What next? Why nothing. I can tell no more. I only know — the night was very bad — They found me lying on the Scottish shore. My ship? The wreck? God knows where that had stranded..Vll those who in the night with me had landedWere dead and cold. Theyve found a resting-place:A bit of earth, a cross. God give them grace!Sometimes at night when theres a creaking, crashingAnd when the whistling winds the yards are thrashing,
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LULU VON STRAUSS UND TORNEY ; LULU VON STRAUSS UND TORNEY: POEMS 317 Against the hatches angry waves are splashing —Then it comes over me: to wander, wander Forever with those thousand others yonder!Many Ive seen for years, but ever moreNew-comers join — each night a mighty band! Sometimes I find one whom I knew before;He nods and dumbly stretches out his hand. And many a comrade in that silent throng Ive borne upon my back or dragged along.I see them, all the sea did ever swallow;The others too I see: those yet to follow,Many a youth who laughs with us today,Upon whose heart no thoughts of dying weigh. And step for step through all the night we go.Deep, deep down there. Jan Witt, ah, well you know,No shaking then can wake me from my dream,And should you shout to wake the dead, and scream.But I come back at early dawn of day,When in the east the blackness turns to gray;Then I awake. My head is dull and weighsLike lead. And then I cannot laugh for days.Ho, fellows, why so dumb? A roundela

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