The tide will ebb at day's decline:
_Ich bin dein!_
Impatient for the open sea,
At anchor rocks the tossing ship,
The ship which only waits for thee;
Yet with no tremble of the lip
I say again, thy hand in mine,
_Ich bin dein!_
I shall not weep, or grieve, or pine.
_Ich bin dein!_
Go, lave once more thy restless hands
Afar within the azure sea,--
Traverse Arabia's scorching sands,--
Fly where no thought can follow thee,
O'er desert waste and billowy brine:
_Ich bin dein!_
Dream on the slopes of Apennine:
_Ich bin dein!_
Stand where the glaciers freeze and frown,
Where Alpine torrents flash and foam,
Or watch the loving sun go down
Behind the purple hills of Rome,
Leaving a twilight half divine:
_Ich bin dein!_
Thy steps may fall beside the Rhine:
_Ich bin dein!_
Slumber may kiss thy drooping lids
Amid the mazes of the Nile,
The shadow of the Pyramids
May cool thy feet,--yet all the while,
Though storms may beat, or stars may shine,
_Ich bin dein!_
Where smile the hills of Palestine,
_Ich bin dein!_
Where rise the mosques and minarets,--
Where every breath brings flowery balms,--
Where souls forget their dark regrets
Beneath the strange, mysterious palms,--
Where the banana builds her shrine,--
_Ich bin dein!_
Too many clusters break the vine:
_Ich bin dein!_
The tree whose strength and life outpour
In one exultant blossom-gush
Must flowerless be forevermore:
We walk _this_ way but once, friend;--hush!
Our feet have left no trodden line:
_Ich bin dein!_
Who heaps his goblet wastes his wine:
_Ich bin dein!_
The boat is moving from the land;--
I have no chiding and no tears;--
Now give me back my empty hand
To battle with the cruel years,--
Behold, the triumph shall be mine!
_Ich bin dein!_
* * * * *