Das Todaustreiben
Driving out Death
Drive out Winter with her hate,
Drive out from the town gate,
With all her wiles and twisters,
True Antichrist and trickster.
We hunted her by hill and dale,
To make the robber breathe away:
Thou canst no longer swindle
With all thy frosts and windfalls!
And now Death has left the fields,
And now Summer spreads the wings,
While dreaming of the blossom
In May, still mud and earthen.
By th'word of God, the summer bloom
Could climb a stone in the gloom.
Who has that sprout risen?
The Lord, the Earth to brighten.
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