Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, GERMANY, by HEINRICH HEINE


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

GERMANY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Let me sing germania' s glory!
Last Line: Ever flourish germany!
Subject(s): Germany; Love; Singing & Singers; Time; Germans; Songs


LET me sing Germania's glory!
Hearken to my noblest strains!
While my spirit tells the story,
Thrilling bliss runs through my veins

Time's book is before me lying,
All things that have happened here,
Good with Evil ever vying --
All before my gaze stands clear.

From the Frenchman's distant nation
Hell approach'd, with impious hand,
Bringing shame and desecration
On our much-loved German land.

All our faith and virtue soiling,
All our heavenly yearnings fled,
All we deemed of worth, despoiling, --
Giving sin and pain instead.

German shame to gild refusing,
Dark the German sun soon grew,
And a mournful voice accusing
Pierced the German oak trees through.

Now the sun once more is glancing,
And the oak trees roar with joy;
The avengers are advancing,
Shame and sorrow to destroy.

And deceit's proud altars hateful
Totter, fall with hideous sound;
Every German heart is grateful,
Free is German holy ground.

See'st the glare yon mount illuming?
Say, what can that wild flame be?
Yes! that fire proclaims the blooming
Image pure of Germany.

From the night of sin emerging
Germany uninjured stands;
Wildly is the spot still surging,
Where that fair form burst her bands.

On the old oak's stems in splendour
Glorious blossoms fast unfold;
Foreign blossoms fall, and tender
Breezes greet us as of old.

All that's virtuous is returning,
All that's good appears once more
And the German, fondly yearning,
Is exulting as of yore.

Ancient manners, ancient German
Virtues, and heroic deeds!
Valiantly each son of Hermann
Waves his sword and proudly bleeds.

Heroes never doves engender,
Lionlike is Hermann's race;
Yet may love's religion tender
Well near valour take its place.

Germans through their sorrows lonely
Learnt Christ's gentle word to prize;
Their land 'genders brethren only,
And humanity is wise.

Once again returns the glorious
Noble love of minstrel's song,
Well becoming the victorious
Breasts of German heroes strong,

As they to the war are going
With the Frank to cross the sword,
To take signal vengeance glowing
For their perfidy abhorr'd.

And at home, no labour heeding,
Woman plies her gentle hand,
Tends the sacred wounds all bleeding
In defence of fatherland.

In her black dress robed, entrancing
Looks the beauteous German dame,
Deck'd with flow'rs and jewels glancing,
Diamond-girded, too, her frame.

But a nobler, prouder feeling
Through me at her vision thrills,
When, beside the sick-bed kneeling,
Acts of mercy she fulfils.

Heavenly angels she resembles
When the last draught she supplies
To the wounded man, who trembles,
Smiles his grateful thanks, and dies.

He to whom to die 'tis given
On the battle-field, is blest;
But a foretaste 'tis of heaven,
Dying on a woman's breast.

Poor, poor sons of France! Fate ever
Unto you unkind has been;
On the Seine's banks, beauty never
Save in search of gold is seen.

German women! German women!
What a charm the words convey!
German women! German women!
Flourish on for many a day!

All our daughters like Louisa,
All our sons like Frederick be!
Hear me in the grave, Louisa!
Ever flourish Germany!





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