Page:Masterpieces of German literature volume 7.djvu/499



HE day was still, the sun's bright glare

Fell sheer upon the Temple's beauteous wall

Withered by tropic heat, the air

Let, like a bird, its listless pinions fall.

Behold a group, young men and gray,

And women, kneeling; silence holds them all;

They mutely pray!

Where is the faithful Comforter

Whom, parting, Thou didst promise to Thine own?

They trust Thy word which cannot err,

But sad and full of fear the time has grown.

The hour draws nigh; for forty days

And forty wakeful nights toward Thee we've thrown

Our weeping gaze.

Where is He? Hour on hour doth steal,

And minute after minute swells the doubt.

Where doth He bide? And though a seal

Be on the mouth, the. soul must yet speak out.

Hot winds blow, in the sandy lake

The panting tiger moans and rolls about,

Parched is the snake.

But hark! a murmur rises now,

Swelling and swelling like a storm's advance,

Yet standing grass-blades do not bow.

And the still palm-tree listens in a trance.

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