Classic Poem

Alone today I mounted that steep hill
On which the Wartburg stands. Here Luther dwelt
In a small room one year through, here he spelt
The German Bible out by God's good will.

The birds piped ti-ti-tu, and as I went
I thought how Katherine von Bora knelt
At Grimma, idle she, waiting to melt
Her surpliced heart in folds less straitly meant.

As now, it was March then: Lo, he'll fulfill
Today his weighty task! Sing for content
Ye birds! Pipe now! for now 'tis Love's wing's bent.
Work sleeps; love wakes; sing and the glad air thrill!