Anyta and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Teutonic leader,—in the foremost file
Of that pickt corps, whose rapture 't is to feel
With subtler closer sense all woe and weal,
And forge the feeling into rhythmic pile
Of words, so tuned they sing the sigh and smile
Of all humanity,—meek did'st thou kneel
At Nature's pious altars, midst the peal
Of prophet-organs, thy great self the while
All ear and eye, thou greatest of the band,
Whose voices waked their brooding Luther-land,—
At last left lone in Weimar, famed through thee,
Wearing with stately grace thy triple crown
Of science, statesmanship, and poesy,
Enrobed in age and love and rare renown.