Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE POSTILION, by NIKOLAUS FRANZ NIEMBSCH VON STREGLENAU Poet's Biography First Line: Passing lovely was the night Last Line: In my ear kept tingling. Alternate Author Name(s): Lenau, Nikolaus Subject(s): Cemeteries; Memory; Mourning; Postal Service; Graveyards; Bereavement; Postmen; Post Office; Mail; Mailmen | ||||||||
PASSING lovely was the night, Silver clouds flew o'er us, Spring, methought, with splendor dight Led the happy chorus. Sleep-entranced lay wood and dale, Empty now each by-way; No one but the moonlight pale Roamed upon the highway. Breezes wandering in the gloom Soft their footsteps numbered Through Dame Nature's sleeping-room Where her children slumbered. Timidly the brook stole by, While the beds of blossom Breathed their perfume joyously On the still night's bosom. My postilion, heedless all, Cracked his whip most gaily, And his merry trumpet-call Rang o'er hill and valley. Hoofs beat steadily the while, As the horses gamboled, And along the shady aisle Spiritedly rambled. Grove and meadow gliding past Vanished at a glimmer: Peaceful towns were gone as fast, Like to dreams that shimmer. Midway in the Maytide trance Tombs were shining whitely; 'Twas the churchyard met our glance None might view it lightly. Close against the mountain braced Ran the long white wall there, And the cross, in sorrow placed, Silent rose o'er all there. Jehu straight, his humor spent, Left his tuneful courses; On the cross his gaze he bent Then pulled up his horses. "Here's where horse and coach must wait You may think it odd, sir: But up yonder, lies my mate Underneath the sod, sir. "Better lad was never born (Sir, 'twas God's own pity!) No one else could blow the horn Half as shrill and pretty. "So I stop beside the wall Every time I pass here, And I blow his favorite call To him under grass here." Toward the churchyard then he blew One call after other, That they might go ringing through To his sleeping brother. From the cliff each lively note Echoing resounded, As it were the dead man's throat Answering strains had sounded. On we went through field and hedge, Loosened bridles jingling; Long that echo from the ledge In my ear kept tingling. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GETTING THE MAIL by GALWAY KINNELL THE DE CARLO LOTS by ANNE WALDMAN OPPOSITES: 37 by RICHARD WILBUR MARSH SONG by NIKOLAUS FRANZ NIEMBSCH VON STREGLENAU |
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