Seite:Marsh Hallig 1856.djvu/191

  Dost call life a vailing,
  That nothing doth hide !
  Nay! honor that covering !
  It drapeth the bride

  Who vails herself coldly
  From gazers profane,
  But gladdens the faithful
  With promise most plain.

  Her breathing is wafted
  On every side,
  As sea-airs bring greetings
  When oceans divide;

  And wanders the pilgrim
  To north or to south,
  She welcomes him kindly,
  With smiles on her mouth ;

  From stars shining o'er him
  Kind glances doth give ;
  And smileth, prophetic,
  On cradle and grave.

  In storm, then, and conflict,
  In nights of thick cloud,
  Though blamed by the wise ones,
  And scorned by the proud,

  Thy brow bind with garlands,
  For festival hall,
  From hope's tree immortal,
  Whose leaves never fall.

  Who, fighting or falling,
  Doubts not of success,
  Hath gained a sure triumph,
  Hath won the bride's yes.

  She leads to the altar,
  She guideth him home ;
  His faith is now seeing,
  His rest-day has come.