Poems (Dorr)/Nuremberg
NUREMBERG
Over the wide, tumultuous seaIn trancèd hours I dream of thee,Ancient city of song and myth,Whose name is a name to conjure with, And make the heart throb, Nuremberg!
I see thee fair in the white moonlight;The stars are asleep at noon of night,Save one that between St. Lawrence' spiresKindles aloft its silver fires— A flaming cresset, Nuremberg!
Leaning over thy river's brimCrowd the red roofs and oriels dim,While under its bridges glide and gleamThe rippling waves of a silent stream, Sparkling and darkling, Nuremberg!
Oh, the charm of each haunted street,Ways where Beauty and Duty meet;Sculptured miracles soaring freeIn temple and mart for all to see, Wherever the light falls, Nuremberg!
Even thy beggars lift their eyes,Finding ever some new surprise;Even thy children pause from play,To hear what thy graven marbles say, Thy myriad voices, Nuremberg!
Other cities for crown and kingWide their glorious banners fling,Lifting high on the azure fieldBlazoned trophies of sword and shield, That pierce the far skies, Nuremberg!
But thou, O city of old renown,Thou dost painter and sculptor crown;Thou dost give to the poet bays,Immortelles for the deathless lays Chanted for thee, fair Nuremberg!
They are thy Lords of High Degree,Marvels of art who wrought for thee,Toiling on with tireless willTill the wondrous hands in death were still. Being dead, they yet speak, Nuremberg!
They were dust and ashes long ago;Over their graves the sweet winds blow;Yet they are alive whom men call dead—This is thy spell, when all is said; This is thy glory, Nuremberg!