My Heart's On The Rhine

My heart's on the Rhine in the old Father-land;
Where my cradle was rocked by a dear mother's hand,
My youth and my friends they are there yet, I know,
And my love dreams of me with her cheeks all aglow;
O there where I reveled in song and in wine!
Wherever I wander my heart's on the Rhine.

I hail thee, thou broad-breasted, golden-green stream;
Ye cities and churches and castles that gleam;
Ye grain-fields of gold in the valley so blue;
Ye vineyards that glow in the sun-shimmered dew;
Ye forests and caverns and cliffs that were mine!
Wherever I wander my heart's on the Rhine.

I hail thee, O life of the soul-stirring song,
Of waltz and of wine, with a yearning so strong,
Hail, ye stout race of heroes, so brave and so true.
Ye blue-eyed, gay maidens, a greeting to you!
Your life and your aims and your efforts be mine;
Wherever I wander my heart's on the Rhine.

My heart's on the Rhine in the old Father-land,
Where my cradle was rocked by a dear mother's hand;
My youth and my friends they are there yet, I know,
And my love dreams of me with her cheeks all aglow:
Be thou ever the same to me, Land of the Vine!
Wherever I wander my heart's on the Rhine.

Hanford Lennox Gordon

No biography available

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Night Thoughts

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

Minnetonka[BY]

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

The Legend Of The Falls[CG]

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

Out Of The Depths

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

English

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Epistle From The Rhine.

To Y ---, with a bowl of Bohemian glass.


From rocky hills, where climbs the vine;
Where on his waves the wandering Rhine
Sees imaged ruins, towns and towers,
Bare mountain scalps, green forest bowers;
From that broad land of poetry,
Wild legend, noble history,
This token many a day bore I,
To lay it at your feet, dear Y - -.

Little the stupid bowl will tell
Of all that on its way befell,
Since from old Frankfort's free domain,
Where smiling vineyards skirt the main,
It took its way; what sunsets red
Their splendours o'er the mountains shed,
How the blue Taunus' distant height
Like hills of fire gave back the light,
And how, on river, rock, and sky,
The sun declined so tenderly,
That o'er the scene white moonlight fell,
Ere...

Frances Anne Kemble

My Father-Land

Where is the minstrel's Father-land?
Where the sparks of noble spirits flew,
Where flowery wreaths for beauty grew,
Where strong hearts glowed so glad and true
For all things sacred, good and grand:
There was my Father-land.

How named the minstrel's Father-land?
O'er slaughtered son 'neath tyrants' yokes,
She weepeth now and foreign strokes;
They called her once the Land of Oaks
Land of the Free the German Land:
Thus was called my Father-land.
Why weeps the minstrel's Father-land?
Because while tyrant's tempest hailed
The people's chosen princes quailed,
And all their sacred pledges failed;
Because she could no ear command,
Alas must weep my Father-land.

Whom calls the minstrel's Father-land?
She calls on heaven with wild alarm
...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

On The Rhine

Vain is the effort to forget.
Some day I shall be cold, I know,
As is the eternal moon-lit snow
Of the high Alps, to which I go:
But ah, not yet! not yet!

Vain is the agony of grief.
Tis true, indeed, an iron knot
Ties straitly up from mine thy lot,
And were it snapt, thou lovst me not!
But is despair relief?

Awhile let me with thought have done;
And as this brimmd unwrinkled Rhine
And that far purple mountain line
Lie sweetly in the look divine
Of the slow-sinking sun;

So let me lie, and calm as they
Let beam upon my inward view
Those eyes of deep, soft, lucent hue,
Eyes too expressive to be blue,
Too lovely to be grey.

Ah Quiet, all things feel thy balm!
Those blue hills too, this rivers flow,
Were re...

Matthew Arnold

Heart Of My Heart

Here where the season turns the land to gold,
Among the fields our feet have known of old,
When we were children who would laugh and run,
Glad little playmates of the wind and sun,
Before came toil and care and years went ill,
And one forgot and one remembered still;
Heart of my heart, among the old fields here,
Give me your hands and let me draw you near,
Heart of my heart.

Stars are not truer than your soul is true
What need I more of heaven then than you?
Flowers are not sweeter than your face is sweet
What need I more to make my world complete?
O woman nature, love that still endures,
What strength has ours that is not born of yours?
Heart of my heart, to you, whatever come,
To you the lead, whose love hath led me home.
Heart of my heart.

Madison Julius Cawein

Minnetonka[BY]

I sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious June,
I hear the dip of gleaming oar, I list the singers' merry tune.
Beneath my feet the waters beat, and ripple on the polished stones,
The squirrel chatters from his seat; the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones.
The pink and gold in blooming wold, the green hills mirrored in the lake!
The deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break.
The maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep;
The sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an Orient gem asleep.
The crimson west glows like the breast of Rhuddin^[CA] when he pipes in May,
As downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay.
In amber sky the swallows fly and sail and circle o'er the deep;
The light-w...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

The Rhingau Song.

This is the favourite Song with the Inhabitants of the vine-covered Region of the Rhingau, an extensive District along the Banks of the Rhine, where the finest Wines are produced.


ORIGINAL.

Bekrantzt mit laub den liebe vollen becher,
Und trinkt ihn frölich leer;
In Gauz Europa ihr herren zecher,
Ist solch, ein wein micht mehr.

Ihn bringt das vaterland aus seiner fulle,
Wie wär er sonst so gut?
Wie wär er sonst so edel, stille,
Und doch voll kraft und muth?

Am Rhein, am Rhein, da wachsen unsre reben:
Gesegnet sey der Rhein!
Da wachsen sie am ufer hin, und geben
Uns diesen labe wein.

So trinkt ihn dann, und lasst uns alle wege
Uns freun, und frölich seyn;
Und wüsten wir, wo jemand traurig läge,
Wir gaben ihm den we...

John Carr