Alone today I mounted that steep hill On which the Wartburg stands. Here Luther dwelt In a small room one year through, here he spelt The German Bible out by God's good will. The birds piped ti-ti-tu, and as I went I thought how Katherine von Bora knelt At Grimma, idle she, waiting to melt Her surpliced heart in folds less straitly meant. As now, it was March then: Lo, he'll fulfill Today his weighty task! Sing for content Ye birds! Pipe now! for now 'tis Love's wing's bent. Work sleeps; love wakes; sing and the glad air thrill! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXILE TO HIS WIFE by JOSEPH BRENAN A PATCH OF OLD SNOW by ROBERT FROST TO ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF RUTLAND by BEN JONSON SUMMER'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT: SPRING by THOMAS NASHE A SONG TO DAVID by CHRISTOPHER SMART THE GODS OF THE EARTH BENEATH by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN COMPENSATION by E. M. BRAINARD WHOM EARTH HAS TAUGHT: REVELATION by MARGARET PERKINS BRIGGS |