VI.

Lights are gleaming, fairy bells are ringing, And I long to plunge and wander free, Where I hear the angel-voices singing In those ancient towers below the sea.

I give a few more specimens of Klaus Groth’s poetry, which I have ventured to turn into English verse, in the hope that my translations, though very imperfect, may, perhaps on account of their very imperfection, excite among some of my readers a desire to become acquainted with the originals.

HE SÄ MI SO VEL.

He sä mi so vel, un ik sä em keen Wort, Un all wat ik sä, weer: Jehann, ik mutt fort!

He sä mi vun Lev un vun Himmel un Eer, He sä mi vun allens—ik weet ni mal mehr!

He sä mi so vel, un ik sä em keen Wort, Un all wat ik sä, weer: Jehann, ik mutt fort!

He heeld mi de Hann, un he be mi so dull, Ik schull em doch gut wen, un ob ik ni wull?

Ik weer je ni bös, awer sä doch keen Wort, Un all wat ik sä, weer: Jehann, ik mutt fort!

Nu sitt ik un denk, un denk jümmer deran Mi düch, ik muss seggt hebbn: Wa geern, min Jehann!

Un doch, kumt dat wedder, so segg ik keen Wort, Un hollt he mi, segg ik: Jehann, ik mutt fort!

HE TOLD ME SO MUCH.

Though he told me so much, I had nothing to say, And all that I said was, John, I must away!

He spoke of his true love, and spoke of all that, Of honor and heaven,—I hardly know what.

Though he told me so much, I had nothing to say, And all that I said was, John, I must away!

He held me, and asked me, as hard as he could, That I too should love him, and whether I would?

I never was wrath, but had nothing to say, And all that I said was, John, I must away!

I sit now alone, and I think on and on, Why did I not say then, How gladly, my John!