Sonnets To A Friend: V

Poem By Alexander Anderson

And quiet Weimar, hush'd of look and staid,
As if she knew the passing stranger came,
Drawn to her by the splendour and the fame
Of her two mighty sons, whose dust is laid
Within her bosom side by side. And she
Covers their ashes still with flowers that bind
Mortals to all the high Immortals. He,
Goethe—a sea without one waft of wind;
Schiller—the river yearning for that sea,
High, pure and restless, with an upward mind.
So let her keep their sacred dust. For through
The march of ages as they sweep along,
Will rise the potent voices of these two—
The ocean and the river of her song.

Comments about Sonnets To A Friend: V

There is no comment submitted by members.


5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of ANDERSON

The Sang That Jenny Sings

It is naething but a lilt,
Yet its rinnin' in my heid;
Just a lilt, an' that is a',
O' an auld auld-warld screed.

Lars Andersonicus

The great Lars Andersonicus,
Who dwelleth in the South,
Who hath the front of Grecian Jove
And the heavy bearded mouth,

The Steerin' Wee Laddie

He winna sup his poshie, the buffy, curly loon,
But spurs and spurtles on my knee, an' quarrels for the spoon,
Rubbin' till his een grow red, and than anither yell;
Oh, an awfu' plague's that laddie wha wants to sup himsel'.

The Sisters

Two sisters stood by the window,
The winds were in their hair;
And cheek to cheek they watched and saw,
The smooth sea sleeping there.

The San' Man

San' man frae the quarry hole,
Bring a pouk o' san';
Stan' ahint my back, an' tak'
A neivefu' in your han'.

The Sorrow Of The Sea

A day of fading light upon the sea;
Of sea-birds winging to their rocky caves;
And ever, with its monotone to me,
The sorrow of the waves.