https://sonett.fontane-place.de/ Sat, 27 Jun 2026 09:35:20 +0000 MyBB https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17241 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:57:29 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17241
Father! thy wonders do not singly stand,
Nor far removed where feet have seldom strayes;
Around us ever lies the enchanted land,
In marvels rich to thine own sons displayed;

In finding thee are all things round us found;
In losing thee are all things lost beside:
Ears have we, but in vain strange voices sound,
And our eyes the vision is denied;

We wander in the country far remote,
‘Mid tombs an ruined piles in death to dwell;
Or on the records of past greatness dote,
And for a buried soul the living sell;

While on our path bewildered falls the night;
That ne’er returns us to the fields of light.]]>
Father! thy wonders do not singly stand,
Nor far removed where feet have seldom strayes;
Around us ever lies the enchanted land,
In marvels rich to thine own sons displayed;

In finding thee are all things round us found;
In losing thee are all things lost beside:
Ears have we, but in vain strange voices sound,
And our eyes the vision is denied;

We wander in the country far remote,
‘Mid tombs an ruined piles in death to dwell;
Or on the records of past greatness dote,
And for a buried soul the living sell;

While on our path bewildered falls the night;
That ne’er returns us to the fields of light.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17240 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:56:54 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17240
Thy beauty fades, and with it too my love,
For’t was the selfsame stalk that bore its flower;
Soft fell the rain, and breaking from above
The sun looked out upon our nupial hour;

And I had thought forever by thy side
With bursting buds of hope in youth to dwell;
But one by one Time streawed thy petals wide,
And every hope’s wan look a grief can tell:

For I had thoughtless lived beneath his sway,
Who like a tyrant dealeth with us all,
Crowning each rose, though rooted on decay,

With charms that shall the spirit’s love enthrall,
And for a season turn the soul’s pure eyes
From virtue’s changeless bloom, that time and death defies.]]>
Thy beauty fades, and with it too my love,
For’t was the selfsame stalk that bore its flower;
Soft fell the rain, and breaking from above
The sun looked out upon our nupial hour;

And I had thought forever by thy side
With bursting buds of hope in youth to dwell;
But one by one Time streawed thy petals wide,
And every hope’s wan look a grief can tell:

For I had thoughtless lived beneath his sway,
Who like a tyrant dealeth with us all,
Crowning each rose, though rooted on decay,

With charms that shall the spirit’s love enthrall,
And for a season turn the soul’s pure eyes
From virtue’s changeless bloom, that time and death defies.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17239 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:56:18 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17239
The light will never open sightless eyes,
It comes to those who willingly would see;
And every object, hill, and stream, and skies,
Rejoice within the encircling line to be;

‘T is day: the field is filld with busy hands,
The shop resounds with noisy workmen’s din,
The traveller with his staff all ready stands
His jet unmeasured journey to begin;

The light breaks gently too within the breast, -
Yet here no eye awaits the crimson morn,
The forge and noisy anvil are at rest,

Nor men nor oxen tread the fields of corn,
Nor pilgrim lifts his staff, - it is no day
To those who find on earth their place to stay.]]>
The light will never open sightless eyes,
It comes to those who willingly would see;
And every object, hill, and stream, and skies,
Rejoice within the encircling line to be;

‘T is day: the field is filld with busy hands,
The shop resounds with noisy workmen’s din,
The traveller with his staff all ready stands
His jet unmeasured journey to begin;

The light breaks gently too within the breast, -
Yet here no eye awaits the crimson morn,
The forge and noisy anvil are at rest,

Nor men nor oxen tread the fields of corn,
Nor pilgrim lifts his staff, - it is no day
To those who find on earth their place to stay.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17238 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:55:47 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17238
Thou need’st not flutter from thy half-built nest,
Whene’er thou hear’st man’s hurrying feet go by,
Fearing his eye for harm may on thee rest,
Or he thy young unfinished cottage spy;

All will not heed thee on that swinging bough,
Nor care that round thy shelter spring the leaves,
Nor watch thee on the pool’s wet margin now,
For clay to plaster straws thy cunning weaves;

And will not hear thy sweet outpouring joy,
That with morn’s stillness blends the voice of song;
For over-anxious care their souls employ,

That else upon thy music borne along,
And the light wings of heart-ascending prayer,
Had learned that Heaven is pleased thy simple joys to share.]]>
Thou need’st not flutter from thy half-built nest,
Whene’er thou hear’st man’s hurrying feet go by,
Fearing his eye for harm may on thee rest,
Or he thy young unfinished cottage spy;

All will not heed thee on that swinging bough,
Nor care that round thy shelter spring the leaves,
Nor watch thee on the pool’s wet margin now,
For clay to plaster straws thy cunning weaves;

And will not hear thy sweet outpouring joy,
That with morn’s stillness blends the voice of song;
For over-anxious care their souls employ,

That else upon thy music borne along,
And the light wings of heart-ascending prayer,
Had learned that Heaven is pleased thy simple joys to share.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17237 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:55:06 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17237
THE latter rain,-- it falls in anxious haste
Upon the sun-dried fields and branches bare,
Loosening with searching drops the rigid waste
As if it would each root's lost strength repair;
But not a blade grows green as in the spring;
No swelling twig puts forth its thickening leaves;
The robins only mid the harvests sing,
Pecking the grain that scatters from the sheaves;
The rain falls still,-- the fruit all ripened drops,
It pierces chestnut-burr and walnut-shell;
The furrowed fields disclose the yellow crops;
Each bursting pod of talents used can tell;
And all that once received the early rain
Declare to man it was not sent in vain.]]>
THE latter rain,-- it falls in anxious haste
Upon the sun-dried fields and branches bare,
Loosening with searching drops the rigid waste
As if it would each root's lost strength repair;
But not a blade grows green as in the spring;
No swelling twig puts forth its thickening leaves;
The robins only mid the harvests sing,
Pecking the grain that scatters from the sheaves;
The rain falls still,-- the fruit all ripened drops,
It pierces chestnut-burr and walnut-shell;
The furrowed fields disclose the yellow crops;
Each bursting pod of talents used can tell;
And all that once received the early rain
Declare to man it was not sent in vain.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17236 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:54:34 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17236
HOW many of the body's health complain,
When they some deeper malady conceal;
Some unrest of the sould, some secret pain,
Which thus its presence doth to theem reveal.
Vain would we seek, by the physician's aid,
A name for this soul-sickness e'er to find;
A remedy for health and strength decayed,
Whose cause and cure are wholly of the mind
To higher nature is the soul allied,
And restless seeks its being's Source to know;
Finding not health nor strength in aught beside;
How often vainly sought in things below,
Whether in sunny clime, or sacred stream,
Or plant of wondrous powers of which we dream!]]>
HOW many of the body's health complain,
When they some deeper malady conceal;
Some unrest of the sould, some secret pain,
Which thus its presence doth to theem reveal.
Vain would we seek, by the physician's aid,
A name for this soul-sickness e'er to find;
A remedy for health and strength decayed,
Whose cause and cure are wholly of the mind
To higher nature is the soul allied,
And restless seeks its being's Source to know;
Finding not health nor strength in aught beside;
How often vainly sought in things below,
Whether in sunny clime, or sacred stream,
Or plant of wondrous powers of which we dream!]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17235 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:53:42 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17235
IT is not life upon Thy gifts to live,
But, to grow fixed with deeper roots in Thee;
And when the sun and shower their bounties give,
To send out thick-leaved limbs; a fruitful tree,
Whose green head meets the eye for many a mile,
Whose moss-grown arms their rigid branches rear,
And full-faced fruits their blushing welcome smile
As to its goodly shade our feet draw near;
Who tastes its gifts shall never hunger more,
For 'tis the Father spreads the pure repast,
Who, while we eat, renews the ready store,
Which at his bounteous board must ever last;
For none the bridegroom's supper shall attend,
Who will not hear and make his word their friend.]]>
IT is not life upon Thy gifts to live,
But, to grow fixed with deeper roots in Thee;
And when the sun and shower their bounties give,
To send out thick-leaved limbs; a fruitful tree,
Whose green head meets the eye for many a mile,
Whose moss-grown arms their rigid branches rear,
And full-faced fruits their blushing welcome smile
As to its goodly shade our feet draw near;
Who tastes its gifts shall never hunger more,
For 'tis the Father spreads the pure repast,
Who, while we eat, renews the ready store,
Which at his bounteous board must ever last;
For none the bridegroom's supper shall attend,
Who will not hear and make his word their friend.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17234 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:52:51 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17234
'TIS a new life;--thoughts move not as they did
With slow uncertain steps across my mind,
In thronging haste fast pressing on they bid
The portals open to the viewless wind
That comes not save when in the dust is laid
The crown of pride that gilds each mortal brow,
And from before man's vision melting fade
The heavens and earth;--their walls are falling now.--
Fast crowding on, each thought asks utterance strong;
Storm-lifted waves swift rushing to the shore,
On from the sea they send their shouts along,
Back through the cave-worn rocks their thunders roar;
And I a child of God by Christ made free
Start from death's slumbers to Eternity.]]>
'TIS a new life;--thoughts move not as they did
With slow uncertain steps across my mind,
In thronging haste fast pressing on they bid
The portals open to the viewless wind
That comes not save when in the dust is laid
The crown of pride that gilds each mortal brow,
And from before man's vision melting fade
The heavens and earth;--their walls are falling now.--
Fast crowding on, each thought asks utterance strong;
Storm-lifted waves swift rushing to the shore,
On from the sea they send their shouts along,
Back through the cave-worn rocks their thunders roar;
And I a child of God by Christ made free
Start from death's slumbers to Eternity.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17233 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:52:17 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17233
I see them crowd on crowd they walk the earth
Dry, leafless trees no Autumn wind laid bare,
And in their nakedness find cause for mirth,
And all unclad would winter's rudeness dare;
No sap doth through their clattering branches flow,
Whence springing leaves and blossoms bright appear;
Their hearts the living God have ceased to know,
Who gives the spring time to th'expectant year;
They mimic life, as if from him to steal
His glow of health to paint the livid cheek;
They borrow words for thoughts they cannot feel,
That with a seeming heart their tongue may speak;
And in their show of life more dead they live
Than those that to the earth with many tears they give.]]>
I see them crowd on crowd they walk the earth
Dry, leafless trees no Autumn wind laid bare,
And in their nakedness find cause for mirth,
And all unclad would winter's rudeness dare;
No sap doth through their clattering branches flow,
Whence springing leaves and blossoms bright appear;
Their hearts the living God have ceased to know,
Who gives the spring time to th'expectant year;
They mimic life, as if from him to steal
His glow of health to paint the livid cheek;
They borrow words for thoughts they cannot feel,
That with a seeming heart their tongue may speak;
And in their show of life more dead they live
Than those that to the earth with many tears they give.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17232 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:51:28 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17232
When I would sing of crooked streams and fields,
On, on from me they stretch too far and wide,
And at their look my song all powerless yields,
And down the river bears me with its tide;
Amid the fields I am a child again,
The spots that then I loved I love the more,
My fingers drop the strangely scrawling pen,
And I remember nought but nature's lore,
I plunge me in the river's cooling wave,
Or on the embroidered bank admiring lean,
Now some endangered insect life to save,
Now watch the pictured flowers and grasses green;
Forever playing where a boy I played,
By hill and grove, by field and stream delayed.]]>
When I would sing of crooked streams and fields,
On, on from me they stretch too far and wide,
And at their look my song all powerless yields,
And down the river bears me with its tide;
Amid the fields I am a child again,
The spots that then I loved I love the more,
My fingers drop the strangely scrawling pen,
And I remember nought but nature's lore,
I plunge me in the river's cooling wave,
Or on the embroidered bank admiring lean,
Now some endangered insect life to save,
Now watch the pictured flowers and grasses green;
Forever playing where a boy I played,
By hill and grove, by field and stream delayed.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17231 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:50:49 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17231
I saw the spot where our first parents dwelt;
And yet it wore to me no face of change,
For while amid its fields and groves I felt
As if I had not sinned, nor thought it strange;
My eye seemed but a part of every sight,
My ear heard music in each sound that rose,
Each sense forever found a new delight,
Such as the spirit's vision only knows;
Each act some new and ever-varying joy
Did by my Father's love for me prepare;
To dress the spot my ever fresh employ,
And in the glorious whole with Him to share;
No more without the flaming gate to stray,
No more for sin's dark stain the debt of death to pay.]]>
I saw the spot where our first parents dwelt;
And yet it wore to me no face of change,
For while amid its fields and groves I felt
As if I had not sinned, nor thought it strange;
My eye seemed but a part of every sight,
My ear heard music in each sound that rose,
Each sense forever found a new delight,
Such as the spirit's vision only knows;
Each act some new and ever-varying joy
Did by my Father's love for me prepare;
To dress the spot my ever fresh employ,
And in the glorious whole with Him to share;
No more without the flaming gate to stray,
No more for sin's dark stain the debt of death to pay.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17230 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:50:01 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17230
The bubbling brook doth leap when I come by,
Because my feet find measure with its call;
The birds know when the friend they love is nigh,
For I am known to them, both great and small.
The flower that on the lonely hillside grows
Expects me there when spring its bloom has given;
And many a tree and bush my wanderings knows,
And e'en the clouds and silent stars of heaven;
For he who with his Maker walks aright,
Shall be their lord as Adam was before;
His ear shall catch each sound with new delight,
Each object wear the dress that then it wore;
And he, as when erect in soul he stood,
Hear from his Father's lips that all is good.]]>
The bubbling brook doth leap when I come by,
Because my feet find measure with its call;
The birds know when the friend they love is nigh,
For I am known to them, both great and small.
The flower that on the lonely hillside grows
Expects me there when spring its bloom has given;
And many a tree and bush my wanderings knows,
And e'en the clouds and silent stars of heaven;
For he who with his Maker walks aright,
Shall be their lord as Adam was before;
His ear shall catch each sound with new delight,
Each object wear the dress that then it wore;
And he, as when erect in soul he stood,
Hear from his Father's lips that all is good.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17229 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:49:26 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17229
The morning comes, and thickening clouds prevail,
Hanging like curtains all the horizon round,
Or overhead in heavy stillness sail;
So still is day, it seems like night profound;
Scarce by the city's din the air is stirred,
And dull and deadened comes its every sound;
The cock's shrill, piercing voice subdued is heard,
By the thick folds of muffling vapors drowned.
Dissolved in mists the hills and trees appear,
Their outlines lost and blended with the sky;
And well-known objects, that to all are near,
No longer seem familiar to the eye,
But with fantastic forms they mock the sight,
As when we grope amid the gloom of night.]]>
The morning comes, and thickening clouds prevail,
Hanging like curtains all the horizon round,
Or overhead in heavy stillness sail;
So still is day, it seems like night profound;
Scarce by the city's din the air is stirred,
And dull and deadened comes its every sound;
The cock's shrill, piercing voice subdued is heard,
By the thick folds of muffling vapors drowned.
Dissolved in mists the hills and trees appear,
Their outlines lost and blended with the sky;
And well-known objects, that to all are near,
No longer seem familiar to the eye,
But with fantastic forms they mock the sight,
As when we grope amid the gloom of night.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17228 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:48:43 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17228
The clear bright morning, with its scented air
And gaily waving flowers, is here again;
Man's heart is lifted with the voice of prayer,
And peace descends, as falls the gentle rain;
The tuneful birds, that all the night have slept,
Take up at dawn the evening's dying lay,
When sleep upon their eyelids gently crept
And stole with stealthy craft their song away.
High overhead the forest's swaying boughs
Sprinkle with drops the traveler on his way;
He hears far off the tinkling bells of cows
Driven to pasture at the break of day;
With vigorous step he passes swift along,
Making the woods reecho with his song.]]>
The clear bright morning, with its scented air
And gaily waving flowers, is here again;
Man's heart is lifted with the voice of prayer,
And peace descends, as falls the gentle rain;
The tuneful birds, that all the night have slept,
Take up at dawn the evening's dying lay,
When sleep upon their eyelids gently crept
And stole with stealthy craft their song away.
High overhead the forest's swaying boughs
Sprinkle with drops the traveler on his way;
He hears far off the tinkling bells of cows
Driven to pasture at the break of day;
With vigorous step he passes swift along,
Making the woods reecho with his song.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17227 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 10:48:03 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17227
Still, still my eye will gaze long fixed on thee,
Till I forget that I am called a man,
And at thy side fast-rooted seem to be,
And the breeze comes my cheek with thine to fan.
Upon this craggy hill our life shall pass,
A life of summer days and summer joys,
Nodding our honey-bells mid pliant grass
In which the bee half hid his time employs;
And here we'll drink with thirsty pores the rain,
And turn dew-sprinkled to the rising sun,
And look when in the flaming west again
His orb across the heaven its path has run;
Here left in darkness on the rocky steep,
My weary eyes shall close like folding flowers in sleep.]]>
Still, still my eye will gaze long fixed on thee,
Till I forget that I am called a man,
And at thy side fast-rooted seem to be,
And the breeze comes my cheek with thine to fan.
Upon this craggy hill our life shall pass,
A life of summer days and summer joys,
Nodding our honey-bells mid pliant grass
In which the bee half hid his time employs;
And here we'll drink with thirsty pores the rain,
And turn dew-sprinkled to the rising sun,
And look when in the flaming west again
His orb across the heaven its path has run;
Here left in darkness on the rocky steep,
My weary eyes shall close like folding flowers in sleep.]]>