ON RE-READING CERTAIN GERMAN POETS

They hold their own, they have no peers

In gloom and glow, in hopes and fears,

In love and terror, hovering round

The lore of that enchanted ground!—

That mystic region, where one hears,

By bandit towers, the hunt that nears

Wild through the Hartz; the demon cheers

Of Hackelnberg; his horn and hound —

They hold their own.

Dark Wallenstein; and, down the years,

The Lorelei; and, creased with sneers,

Faust, Margaret;— the Sabboth sound,

Witch-whirling, of the Brocken, drowned

In storm, through which Mephisto leers,—

They hold their own.