Two master spirits of German song, they stand
Each by the side of each; the sculptor's thought
Has guided the sure chisel, as it ought,
And placed the laurel wreath in Goethe's hand.
He holds it with that calm repose of face,
True reflex of his life, and looks straight on;
While Schiller, as if hearing some high tone
Playing within his life, has time to place
His finger tips within the wreath, but lifts
His vision upward; type, too, of his life,
That struggled, through thick clouds of early strife,
To the calm sunshine of all noble gifts.
Two spirits of melody—one broad and wise,
The other pure, and yearning still to rise.