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 marked 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.
