The Wanderer's Chant

MAY sparkle for others
Henceforward this wine!
Adieu, beloved brothers

And sisters of mine,
My boyhood's green valleys,

My fathers' grey halls!
Where Liberty rallies

My destiny calls.

The sun never stands,

Never slackens his motion;
He travels all lands

Till he sinks in the ocean;
The stars cannot rest;

The wild winds have no pillow,
And the shore from its breast

Ever flings the blue billow.

So Man in the harness

Of Fortune must roam,
And far in the Farness

Look out for his home;

Unresting and errant,
West, East, South, and North,

The liker his parent,
The weariless Earth!

Though he hears not the words of

The language he loves,
He kens the blithe birds of

His Fatherland's groves:
Old voices are singing

From river and rill,
And flowrets are springing

To welcome him still.

And Beauty's dear tresses

Are lovely to view,
And Friendship still blesses

The soul of the True:
And love, too, so garlands

The wanderer's dome
That the farthest of far lands

To him is a home.