On a Pair of Antlers, Brought from Germany

Gift, from the land of song and wine —
Can I forget the enchanted day,
When first along the glorious Rhine
I heard the huntsman's bugle play,
And mark'd the early star that dwells
Among the cliffs of Drachenfels!
Again the isles of beauty rise;
Again the crumbling tower appears,
That stands, defying stormy skies,
With memories of a thousand years;
And dark old forests wave again,
And shadows crowd the dusky plain.
They brought the gift, that I might hear
The music of the roaring pine —
To fill again my charmed ear
With echoes of the Rodenstein —
With echoes of the silver horn,
Across the wailing waters borne.
Trophies of spoil! henceforth your place
Is in this quiet home of mine;
Farewell the busy, bloody chase,
Mute emblems now of "auld lang syne,"
When Youth and Hope went hand in hand
To roam the dear old German land.