Classic Poem

Wir sassen am Fischerhause

We sat at the hut of the fisher
And idly watched the sea,
While in the hush of evening
The mists rose silently.

The yellow lights in the lighthouse
Shone like a burnished bell,
And in the hazy distance
One ship still rose and fell.

We spoke of storm and shipwreck,
Of sailors and their life,
Pulled between sky and water,
Fierce joy and lusty strife.

We gossiped of distant places,
Of North and of South we spoke,
Of wild and curious customs,
And wild and curious folk.

Of how the Ganges sparkles;
Of great exotic trees;
Of folk who worship the lotus
Silently, on their knees.

Of Lapland; its slovenly people,
Flat-headed, broad-featured and small,
That do little else but bake fishes
And squat by the fire and squall. . . .

The girls all listened breathless;
Then silence, like a spell . . .
The ship could be seen no longer —
Swiftly the darkness fell.