THE STATUE OVER THE CATHEDRAL DOOR. FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN. FORMS of saints and kings are standing The cathedral door above; Yet I saw but one among them Who hath soothed my soul with love. In his mantle, wound about him, As their robes the sowers wind, Bore he swallows and their fledglings, Flowers and weeds of every kind. And so stands he calm and childlike, High in wind and tempest wild; O, were I like him exalted, I would be like him, a child! And my songs,-green leaves and blossoms,- Round me still these birds of air. THE LEGEND OF THE CROSSBILL. FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN. On the cross the dying Saviour And by all the world forsaken, Sees he how with zealous care At the ruthless nail of iron A little bird is striving there. Stained with blood and never tiring, From the cross 't would free the Saviour, And the Saviour speaks in mildness : "Blest be thou of all the good! Bear, as token of this moment, Marks of blood and holy rood!" And that bird is called the crossbill; In the groves of pine it singeth Songs, like legends, strange to hear. |